Sickness unto foolish Death
by Hickok
Summary: Heart-sick with the disappearance of Sebastian, Grell takes in an infant orphaned during the London fires to raise as his own. But the discovery of Sebastian's arm reignites a stagnant hope that cannot be so easily stilled. Sebastian/Grell
1. So softly stirs the darkness

**_Sickness unto foolish death_**

_**DISCLAIMER: **__I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of it's affiliated characters and I am not gaining any remuneration for writing this story. Unfortunately._

_**Note: **__Well folks, I'm taking a little sidestep from my Yami fic to pen this short five or six chapter story for the very awesome Kuroshitsuji series. I suppose I should make note of a few things here. Obviously, this contains spoilers for the anime. I normally write in first person narrative because it allows for the reader to examine the thought process and feelings of the main character at depth and this is what I have done here. The themed pairing is Sebastian/Grell, though even at this stage I'm not quite sure exactly how much is going to happen between them. It may just be more of an insinuated thing. After all, we know what Sebastian is like! (**Grell:** I want your babies! **Sebastian**: Get the fuck away from me). As for the fic itself, this is a funny little idea that was just shelved in my mind for a while and weird as it may be, explores how seriously Grell takes his life. I also wanted to explore the lifestyle of the Reapers themselves and dig a little into the dynamics of Sebastian and Grell's relationship; such as it is. (Sweatdrops) The central foundation for the fic itself rose out of my wonderings of what might happen if Sebastian and Grell just sat and talked to one another at great length with great sincerity. I started meting out how this might happen and what would need to be in place to see it occur and all that. On that note, since this is set in England, I will be using appropriate English terminology and spelling, just to stay true to the cultural integrity of the piece._

_Two pieces of artwork particularly inspired me whilst writing this. One you can see now as my profile picture; a brooding Grell, idly contemplating a strand of his hair. He looked so serious in this promotional piece that I couldn't help but wonder what might be going on in his head! The other is a particularly beautiful piece of fanart (sorry, I cannot remember the artists name for the life of me!) called **Candle. **I had written a scene for a later chapter where Grell sits at Sebastian's feet and lo and behold I found this picture in which the very same thing was happening! It made me want to go back and write the chapter with a little more depth and so I did! Anyhow, I give credit to these two pictures for inspiring me to pen this piece._

_I also must give credit to the Silent Hill series. The story title is taken from an incredibly eerie and cold piece of music from Silent Hill 3, that for some reason reminded me of Sebastian. Anyway, that's enough fan wanking on for now! Grab yourselves a cup of your favorite beverage and sit a spell with me!_

_**Chapter One: So Softly Stirs the Darkness**_

_**~ xXx ~**_

"A mighty pain to love it is,  
And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;  
But of all pains, the greatest pain  
It is to love, but love in vain."  
~ _Abraham Cowley ~_

**~ xXx ~**

Mine is a strange existence and the story that I wish to tell you, is perhaps even stranger than the sum of my entire extraordinary life. There is some part of me that feels shame in even inviting you to share in my experiences. After all, it is not for a life such as mine to want for the assurances and securities that those of mankind are accustomed to. Ours is a race, whose story is never told. We exist in neutrality, neither one complete state of being, nor any other. We are undefined, unknown and perpetually eclipsed by the shadows that come a second before all light fades and the fingers of darkness creep across the threshold and into the heart.

My name is Grell Sutcliffe. I am a Reaper, employed by the United Kingdom Ministry of Hades. My post is the Reaper Response Unit, whose task it is to gather the souls of the immediate departed and catalogue their life in preparation for imminent judgment in the Limbo Court. I have been serving in this role for… well, who can possibly be sure? After a while, all the tiresome days seem to bleed into wash; like tears falling upon drying ink. I can't imagine how long I may have been doing this for. Too long. But Reapers do not have the luxury of assuming contrary occupation. We are born a death god and so we live and die as such. I'm sure that is possibly the major contributing factor for where Will came across his dreadful coldness and I my terrible frustration. There are days where you can no more avoid these feelings then you can avoid smelling tea when it has been brewed on the table before you.

This is a strange story; again I serve to remind you friend because it is certainly not a Reaper's place to be subjected to intense emotions such as this. Ours is a world governed by sensibilities, rationale and realism. The rest is shadows and silence. The rest is secret.

But that is not the story I mean to bring to you today.

Instead, I intend to tell you the story that has facilitated the most unknowing and remarkable change in myself. You see; I have had three great loves in my life. I have never known such sadness as what it was to have loved these people. It occurs to me, more than ever before, that life is never quite so simple as we should hope it would be. Not even the supposedly structured life of a Reaper. What guides us as we set out across the far-reaching tableau of our existence is no more distinguishable than the fleeting stirrings of the heart and yet somehow more seamlessly complicated and inscrutable than the purpose of life itself.

Mine is a sickness unto the most foolish of deaths; and that death is perhaps the last breath within me that is ever so frail and human. The contraction of this sickness could have been any number of instances in my so long life. The three most important and likely occasions, I can count on one hand.

The first instance; the night in which I witnessed Madam Red committing one of her very earliest murders; I felt a tiding of empathy and adoration that I had never experienced for a woman before. This was a pivotal moment in my life, as was the instance of her death.

The second occasion, where the illness took firm grasp of my soul, was when I met _him._ The demon that had captured my heart so effortlessly with his proficiency, his strength and his beauty. Heavily laden by desire so purposeless that it never achieved a means to an end, I nonetheless kept him in my sights, hoping in vain that my luck would change.

The third occasion… it was not so long ago. So near was the time, that I can still smell the smoke in my clothing and somewhere, in the corners of my mind, the screams of the dying still linger, like an echo that just won't dissipate…

**~ xXx ~**

The year was 1889. The date was the 25th of April. The time was 2:35 am, give or take a tenth of a second.

London burned in the fires lit by the Ministry's own Celestial liaison Angela and the Reaper's were on the move. I was working hard, dissipating the blank souls that had been completely wiped from the Angel's revision process and gathering up those that could be taken in for judgment. The sky was dark from smoke and the sporadic fires continued to burn, though the source of their ignition had long since been eliminated. I couldn't say I was particularly sorry for that, as it did cut down on the amount of work we were expected to undertake. (It _was_ however such a terrible waste of what could at times be a nice looking fellow). Knox (**1**), the junior in my division, had already started complaining about how much overtime we were putting in, though no one took him particularly seriously. This was the Reaper's lot; you understand. It was at times a thankless and unrewarding existence, that we were nonetheless obliged to perform.

I wasn't at all in the mood for complaining myself, poor though my temper can be at the best of times. (And tired, as I was) Between us, I confess that I was quietly grateful that nothing terrible had happened to me, as of yet.

You see, of all the key players in my afterlife, no one could suggest that luck played a particularly integral part of it. In fact, that bitch was noticeably absent whenever I needed her most and only turned up for the most inconsequential matters. Such as getting that terribly unattractive Ficus moved away from my workstation. Or keeping my hair frizz free whenever we had a young new intern.

I would hardly go so far as to suggest that I was ungrateful for these few instances of good fortune. What I _do_ mean to express, most implicitly however, is that luck doesn't exactly favor the odds of Grell Sutcliffe. And why should it? I wouldn't put money on me. My successes have been inconsistent at best, though I had been at some point or another, one of the highest-ranking Reaper's in my division. Which sounds impressive but if one is to be perfectly candid, my rate of success was only so high because… well, in my humble opinion, I'm a little high-spirited. My work colleagues prefer other less eloquent terms, such as 'bloodthirsty', 'maniacal', 'hyperactive' 'attention deficit' but then you can't really blame them for being jealous of one, can you?

Because luck didn't have my back in life, I had always placed great emphasis on self-reliance and being forthcoming when going after something that I particularly wanted. As a result, I was extremely competitive by nature. Will often scolded me for 'squabbling over souls', as he put it, as though we Reapers were some inelegant creatures like seagulls, fighting over scraps of food! Uncouth that it is, I can see some truth in that comparison. A high gather rate meant the difference between keeping your job or being downgraded through the ranks of the demi-gods. This is why, despite being… em… misled by ones own modest desires a few times, one has still managed to maintain ones esteemed rank. Not an easy thing to do mind, especially when you're made to carry the lowest form of death scythe imaginable. (A pair of scissors that seemed to magically shrink a little more every day. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought that Will had developed a sense of humour and was suggesting my ego would have done well to follow suit. I aptly refused to take the hint).

But maybe luck was finally gracing me with its' company for once. With the fires of London lit beneath our feet, the Reaper response unit had been charged with bringing in a veritable host of souls for immediate process. The smoldering flames had taken a lot of people and we had been reaping all evening and well into the night in order to gather the stagnant essence. The Response team was so understaffed that Will had even needed to call in after hours to assist and went so far as to return my cherished mechanical death scythe. Even the Legendary Grim Reaper Ankou **(2)** had come out of retirement just to be of use to us that night. All in all a lovely time was had by all. Oh, except for those people that had died in the fire. And their loved ones and all that but really, what are they to us Reapers?

And what's more, William had informed us that the infuriating Celestial nuisance Angela or whatever it was calling itself at any given point in time, had been killed by none other than Sebastian.

Ah Sebby… perhaps the only thing in this entire big bad world that I relished as much (or perhaps more) than my droning death scythe. (After all, a death scythe could hardly keep your bed warm could it?) I'm speaking in a purely hypothetical sense, because in reality, I would have probably been safer spooning my death scythe then attempting to fork with that demon of a butler. Still, I had a great deal of experience in wearing people down to the bone and even someone as resilient as Sebastian only had so much patience. They say that a steady drop of water could wear a crease in the toughest of boulders. And I was not so much a drop as a deluge. I was counting on seeing results before the century was through!

Thoughts such as these buoyed my spirits and by the time I was able to slow down and take a break, my mood was positively bully. I found a place to rest on the side of a fountain (mostly reduced to rubble by this late stage) and pulled a handkerchief out of my inside pocket in order to dab the sweat from my forehead. My makeup had almost all but perspired by this stage and I could see the smears of eyeliner stain the white lace. I had been working very hard after all and the night was still far from over.

"Phew…" I whistled, putting the handkerchief away and pulling out my diary instead. A diary seems like an awfully strange thing to keep but most immortals make it a habit of theirs to record their thoughts and feelings, lest the passing of the ages weakens our memories and countenance. Mine was a lovely book with a dark crimson cover and a delicate ribbon used to keep out snoops and or other busy bodies that might have cared to pry into the more intimate details of my life. I unwound the ribbon carefully, trying to block out the sounds of something crashing heavily to the ground somewhere in the distance and opened the diary to the days date, taking a pencil from my shirt pocket and tapping the arm of my glasses thoughtfully with it. Honestly however, there wasn't much to amuse oneself in this particular edition and the details were fairly sparse, to say the least. I flicked a few pages back and perused my 'To-do-list'.

_**Grell Sutcliffe's 'To Do' List.**_

_**i. Sebastian.** (Heh he)._

_**ii. Behave self long enough to have Death Scythe returned to one.** (_I happily could now cross this one off of the list)

_**iii. KILL NUN!** _(This was written in very scrawly handwriting and I remembered jotting it down at the same time Sebastian had been copulating with that villainous little nightingale in the convents farmhouse. I'd tried to make good on this threat by scribbling her name into my Death Note but my claim as to why she needed to die earlier than her pre-determined DOD (date of death) didn't go over especially well with the Hades council and was booted out of court. Seems if you want anyone killed in this business, you gotta do it yourself.)

**_iv. Have Sebastian's babies._ (**I'd prefer to be getting to that one sooner rather than later. Where there's a will…!)

_**v. Get a kiss from Sebastian. (With tongue!)** _(Ah, that's right… the brat hadn't actually bothered to pay up on that one. What an infuriating squirt. It was quite enough to give abortion a good name and dampen any hopes for my wanting to have children of my own!)

I closed the diary and rethreaded the ribbon, my mind swooping back to Sebastian just as predictable in its pattern as the pendulum of a clock. He had confronted Angela, so far as information told us but what had happened to him following this? That creature had been the predominant driving force behind the death and mutilation of the Phantomhive family. As such, if she were dead, did that not suggest that the brat had acquired his revenge, as stipulated in the contract meted out between he and Sebastian?

I felt a chill down my spine, completely out of context with the fires that continued to burn through the city around me. If the contract was complete, then Sebastian would take Ciel's soul as payment for his service, as was his right. But this would mean that his job here on earth was fulfilled. He would return to the Underdwelling and I might not ever come upon him again, no matter how long a Reaper might live for! There are _millions _of demons and Sebastian was only one amongst many. Why, I had no utter conception of what his _true _name was, never mind how I might even go about finding him.

You might think me terribly heartless to disregard the boys' soul in this equation and you would be quite right to think so. By _human_ standards anyway. We Reaper's however are raised to exercise practicality when undertaking our jobs, otherwise, how might we survive? I felt no more at a loss for the death of that repugnant boy, than I perhaps might have regretted a leaf falling from a tree. It was not a fixed expectation I might have ever entertained and no one is so foolish as to hinge his or her emotions upon a leaf clinging to a branch forever. That was how we gods of death were trained to look upon the world; with delicate and dispassionate disassociation.

What I did regret most however, was the loss of Sebastian, should he have fulfilled his contract. Demons were not like humans; as you might have now come to realize, Sebastian was impeccably difficult to dispose of. Reapers generally dislike Underdwellers, **(3) **as they present a veritable threat to our job description but our feelings towards them are permitted to exist at a not so detached level, owing to their power and immortality. And Sebastian was a demon quite unlike any other. It had been quite some time since I had seen an Underdweller form a Faustian contract with a human and fulfill its duties with such steadfast, unyielding determination. Sometimes, I couldn't be sure whether to laugh at this display, or to sit there open mouthed in astonishment.

One thing was for certain however; I had a weakness for handsome men and Sebastian certainly wasn't the first to snag my attention. (And he wasn't likely to be the last). But he'd certainly snagged it more securely than most others. I found myself thinking about him constantly; about the perfect angles of the human face he had forged for himself, the fierceness in his gaze and those ever so deliciously rare moments when he allowed a shred of his true feelings to peek through. And I'd always been a sucker for dark hair and eyes, so these aspects of his appearance certainly aided in making the demon of a butler perfectly irresistible to me. It was just such a terrible shame that he adamantly refused to reciprocate these feelings.

I though I'd had all the time in the world to turn him around to my way of thinking. How little I had after all! If the contract was on the very verge of completion, then not only would I lose Sebastian, but I would also lose what little leverage I had with him!

How ironic that I would finally consider that brat Ciel more useful alive than dead. It became comparatively clear to me that I needed to find him before he turned his soul over to Sebastian for consumption, or else risk losing track of the demon forever. (I'd guarantee he would run like a spurned hare just as soon as his work was done).

I'd been contemplating such thoughts for what must have only been a few minutes but it was long enough for William to send someone to check up on me. Fiona Ashmore, another member of the Reaper Response Unit dropped down from the roof and landed in front of me, hand perched jauntily against her hip. Fiona had peculiarly colored hair; a black so deep it appeared almost blue. It wasn't styled to fit with the current trend of most women (long and pinned back) but cropped even shorter than Madam Red's had been and tucked in straight against her chin. She also wore dark trousers, mid shin length boots and a basque bodice with wide sleeves. She of course had glasses, just as all Reapers' did. (Our eyes are formed to pick up on Paranormal discrepancies, such as departed souls and are generally incompatible with the physicality of the Waking World. Glasses are necessary in order to focus our sight). She carried her Death Scythe (taking the form of an oversized blood red pick axe) over one shoulder and tapped it against the top of her spine as she strutted over and flashed her teeth at me.

"Sitting down on the job? Guess I should be surprised not to find you on your back."

I revved my Death Scythe threateningly but Fiona knew me well enough by now just to ignore it. She bought the Pick Axe down and tapped me on the head with the side of it.

"William says you haven't brought in another soul for a while. I told him we've just about rounded up everything there is to be had but he seemed to think you were slacking off anyway and sent me to find you." She straightened up and looked about, her delimited yellow eyes peering out from a face that was darkened from smoke and ash. "By the by, you haven't seen Alyssa and Knoxie about, have you?" There were another two members of the Response team with whom we were both chummy. I shook my head as I slipped my diary back into my pocket and climbed to my feet, giving my backside a dusting off as a I stood.

"Not since we started our initial sweep. I'm sure they'll come drifting in eventually." I set my droning scythe against my shoulder and started back down the laneway towards the designated gathering point for the Response Unit, Fiona trailing along in my wake. "My guess is, they're having entirely too much fun and forgot to check in. That's easy enough, isn't it?"

"Maybe for a crazy person like _you_," Fiona muttered, winking at my offended expression. "As for the rest of us, we try and keep Will happy so that we get paid at the end of the week. A concept that seems entirely lost on you, son."

"So, perhaps irritating Will isn't in my best interests but one needs to unwind now and then… and don't you find this work so predictable and boring sometimes, Fiona?"

Fiona raised one dark brow, to show exactly how surprised she was to hear such a thing. "If there's one thing you can say about a Reaper's occupation Grell, it's that it is hardly ever what one might call a predictable line of work. You just happen to have the attention range of a thimble."

I opened my mouth to tell her exactly what I thought of her unsolicited input when I was interrupted by a pitiful little whimper from down an alley that we so happened to be passing. Fiona and I turned to look up the laneway in one fluid corresponding movement and then came back to look one another in the eyes, each of us no doubt thinking the same thing.

"You miss one along this way, Grell?" She asked, squeezing the handle of her Pick Scythe just that little bit tighter. I could see the competitive gleam in her eyes and I realized for once that my own didn't match it.

"I had assumed that it would pass away in due recourse but that obviously didn't happen," I said, sheathing my scythe into the leather holster on my back before striding headlong into the alleyway. The woman's body was just where I remembered it, the bundle still held tightly in arms that had long succumbed to rigor mortis. A fat fist waved feebly out from the swaddling clothes and I pushed back the outer blanket to expose the face of the infant, perhaps no older than four months. Its face was pinched in anguish, tears and mucus congealing on its' upper lip and it squalled loudly for seeing someone. I was greatly surprised that it was still alive, having passed by an hour earlier and finding it in poor condition even then. I'd assumed its' soul would be dually picked up by some other Reaper in the course of their duties and spare me the trouble. I will admit; I had a soft spot for babies, even if they were human and not my own.

Fiona knew this but she still seemed surprised. "Grell, are you getting soft in your old age?" She knelt beside me, pulling a little more of the blanket aside in order to better examine the infant. "Why, it's so young I'm quite surprised it lived so long as it did!" She set her arm down over her knees and gave me something of a concerned look. "You do realize Grell, that this would fall under the grounds of Justified Termination? It would spare the child further suffering if you had severed its' cord when you'd first come across it."

"I realize that," I said moodily, unable to tear my eyes away from the child's charmingly plump features. It reminded me of a squash; all round and soft at the corners. It made my heart pang to think I would never be able to bring an enchanting life such as this into the world. "And I do apologize if I had a weak moment, missy but you in turn shouldn't ever take for granted that you have the liberty to pop one of these out whenever the fancy takes you. I for one don't have that luxury."

Fiona pulled a face and bunted me in the side of the head with the handle of her Pick Scythe. "Excuse _me _but I can't just 'pop one out' whenever I feel like it! There's a long involved process involved in the preparation of such things that you, dear fellow, may not be so well acquainted with."

"I am _so _acquainted with such things!" I snapped, lashing out with my hand and striking only air. Fiona had nimbly rolled backwards and onto her feet, dodging my attack as effectively as Sebastian might have done. "However, I'm only acquainted with _my _particular means of going about it. I couldn't even begin to imagine what it is like between… well…"

"A man and a 'real' woman?" Fiona provided, scathingly. I scowled at her over my shoulder.

"Yes, _thankyou _Fiona. I was going to say 'between other people' but your answer is just so much more insulting."

"Don't blame the mouthpiece. Anyway, if you haven't the stomach to reprise the child's soul, then do step aside so I might be done with it." She hefted the Pick Axe over her shoulder and lowered it so that one point touched the ground behind her. I watched as the muscles in her arms flexed and she gestured with her head for me to move out of the way so that she might sever the infants cord.

But I was having the most devilish time of disassociating myself. It had been a long day and my emotions were on tenterhooks as it was. Sebastian may have been lost to me forever and that was a loss in more ways than one. My life would be twice as boring and I would have to live the rest of it knowing I'd let a huge hunk slip through my fingers! Why, living with such knowledge seemed like a rather impossible thing! And perhaps I was getting softer, who knows? But looking at that child, I was struck with the sudden and unsurpassable feeling that I was standing at a cross roads and my decision regarding this infant's fate would muchly determine all else that followed along behind it. I realize now that sounds like an entirely foolish thing to say because when doesn't one's actions ever make a difference in their future? What was clear to me though, was that I felt inexplicably tied to the fate of this child. It would change something in my life at an enormous level. I had no real way of knowing that of course and maybe I was simply feeling tired and hormonal but there it is as I then saw it.

Undecided as to a furthered course of action, I pressed my fingertip against the infants cheek and felt the softness beneath my glove. The child made a soft whimpering noise and grasped my finger between its' little fist and held on tightly.

And so it was that I came to find my third great love.

**~ xXx ~**

The candle is burning low, so for now I give pause. The hour is late and the darkness softly stirs, inviting me onward towards ever-elusive sleep.

Until next we speak, kind soul.

With fondest regards,

**Grell Sutcliffe.**

**~ EC ~**

**1. Knox/Knoxie: **Ronald Knox; a Reaper that appears briefly in the Kuroshitsuji manga to assist William. He will feature in this story quite a bit!

**2. Ankou:** In old English literature, Ankou was a figure with burning eyes that drove the carriage of the dead and harvested souls. It is the name I have given to the Undertaker and how the Shinigami know him.

**3. Underdwellers: **The political correct term for demons.

**A/N: **Well readers, I hope that there was some enjoyment to be found in this! The chapters from hence forth on will be much more light hearted and easy going. (And involve Sebastian, I promise!) Leave a review if you enjoyed and I look forward to seeing you all in Chapter two, when Knoxie makes a very surprising discovery! Ciao!


	2. Please love me once more

_**Sickness unto foolish death**_

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of it's affiliated characters and I am not gaining any remuneration for writing this story. Unfortunately. Every little bit helps!

**Note: **Well the second chapter of Sickness unto foolish death! Thanks everyone who has favorited me and or left a review! I appreciate all the support and in thanks, I hope you all enjoy the new chapter! I did promise that there would be some Sebastian in this chapter and I haven't exactly lied about that… nor have I entirely told the truth… Anyway, that's enough of that twaddle. Please, come and sit a spell with us!

**A/N: **Few warnings for the this chapter; little bit of violence, disturbing imagery and general creepiness. But you'd expext that; reading a Grell fic, wouldn't you? The following song from Phantom of the Opera actually made me think of Grell and Madam Red for some reason… I think it may be the talk of turning your back to light and surrendering to darkness, that sort of thing. It seems fitting somehow, which is why it has a place here. It really is a very lovely and powerful song! I wonder if you guys will agree with me?

**Chapter Two: Please love me… once more.**

_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses_

_Helpless to resist the notes I write_

_For I compose the music of the night_

_Softly, deftly music shall caress you  
Hear it, feel it secretly possess you  
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind  
In this darkness which you know you can not fight  
The darkness of the music of the night_

_Let your mind start a journey though a strange new world  
Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before  
Let your soul take you where you long to be  
Only then can you belong to _

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor  
Grasp it; sense it, tremulous and tender  
Turn your face away from the garish light of day  
Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light  
And listen to the music of the night

Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams  
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before  
Close your eyes; let your spirit start to soar  
And you'll live as you've never lived before.

Floating, falling sweet intoxication  
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation  
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in  
To the power of the music that I write  
The power of the music of the night

You alone can make my song take flight

Help me make the music of the night

**~ The Music of the Night (Phantom of the Opera) ~**

**~ xXx ~**

"_**In Sleep we lie all naked and alone, in Sleep we are united at the heart of night and darkness, and we are strange and beautiful asleep; for we are dying the darkness and we know no death."**_  
~ _Tom Wolfe_ ~

**~ xXx~**

My dear friend, a little background information to further illuminate your understanding of these strange happenings which I am speaking of to you today.

Let me first and foremost inform you that the world of the Reapers exists as a mirror image to the human world. We have the same countries, many of the same buildings and much of the same scenery. Though of course anyone who is born and lives in the world of the Reapers, is born solely with the purpose of being just that; a Reaper. You human beings possess such a novelty. You might pick your vocation, whereas we in turn have only the right to nominate our preference. That is the single most defining and _dividing _difference between our races and perhaps the most earnest reason why we in turn look upon you with such envy and bitterness.

As a child, I lived a far from charmed life. I was born in the Reaper's equivalent of Wales, in a small nondescript country town so far removed from glamour whatsoever. From my earliest years, I was very much like my father, (so I was told) and hardly at all like my mother or baby sister. My aunt said it was because my father and I were made just the same, he and I – and it was true we both had the same peculiar teeth of a sort you almost never see amongst Reapers. Instead of being square and evenly lined like everyone else's, my fathers teeth came to a point much like a sharks, and mine are just the same. When I was very young, I told my father that I thought he had replaced his teeth with a steel trap instead of dentures, which he thought very funny. Reapers believe that his teeth are the way they are because of a throwback to a demon in his genetic line, which manifested itself in his fiery temperament as well – and this, they explained, was partly the reason as to why my own features matched so poorly.

My aunt took some manner of vindictive pleasure in reminding me of my ill-begotten lot. She often said that I ought to have been extremely attractive, because both my parents had been. Well, it's quite true that scotch has a lovely taste and so does a cabernet, but you certainly cannot swill them about the same glass; this was the terrible trick nature had played on me. I had my fathers' pouty mouth but my mothers narrow jaw, which gave the impression that my features were thin and drawn and my mouth far too wide for my face. Most Reapers eyes are either a striking green or yellow and my parents had each one of these. My sister had inherited my mothers bright green eyes but not I; mine had somehow been a mixture of the two, which seemed not at all appealing. My aunt would say that it brought to mind a toilet bowl that someone had just urinated into. These unfortunate eyes of mine were surrounded by thick lashes that must have been striking on my dark haired father however, since I had inherited my mothers red hair, my lashes were translucent and only served to make me look perpetually startled. My skin was also incredibly pale and my frame was as long and slender as my mothers. My one great pride was and remains to this day, my hair. Like my mothers, it is dark red like old blood and refreshingly straight and as such, easy to manage even when I began growing it out.

As much as I resembled my father and had even inherited his unusual teeth; my sister, Rowena, was sound evidence to all around us that an even balance could be struck between our two very different parents. She was a perfect equilibrium, with our fathers' long dark hair, our mothers' bright green eyes and fathers' long lashes. And she had a lovely face as well; both elegant and innocent in the same breath. She was of medium height and beneficially proportioned. During the most awkward years of my life, she was someone I both adored and envied in equal measure. I felt very much overshadowed by her but in the same instance, inordinately protective as well. You see, Rowena was much, much younger than I was and she also had a remarkable quality of invoking ill fortune in a way that most ordinary folk naturally avoid. For example, if you asked her to pour you a cup of tea, she might somehow tilt the pot at just the wrong angle to have the lid fall off and then she would naturally tilt her whole body to see where it would land and the tea would splash out the top of the kettle and scald her. One time, she even managed to cut herself with a quill; she somehow managed to scrape it against her arm at just the wrong angle to slice open her skin. Most everyone would agree that she was a lovely woman but she was a hell of a scatterbrain. In fact, I had taken to modeling myself after her when I acted as the Barnett family butler for those long months. With my own naturally dowdy looks and Rowena's clumsy and unassuming nature, it had naturally been a winning performance.

Our parents might have gone on to have other children besides Rowena and myself, particularly since my father hoped for a boy that he would actually be able to do male things with. But when I was fourteen and Rowena only two and a half months, our father went off to conduct an assignment in the Cornish isles and my mother was left to raise the two of us on her own. Now, I cannot say much about my mother without seeming embittered by the entire thing but in respect to the integrity of the piece she was, and remains until this day, the very worst example of a mother I could possibly imagine. Not only was she an absent minded and neglectful woman but also she appeared to openly resent mine and Rowena's presence in her life. Sometimes, she would take to staring at us reproachfully, as though we were uninvited guests in her home, who didn't posses the common decency to leave. She hadn't conducted any Reaping duties for some manner of years and seemed to not have any idea with how to spend her time. Mostly, she would pass it in drinking and took to evenings out where she and some other Grim's in her position would imbibe Opium and any other manner of things that they could get their hands on. Often, she would not make it back that night and it would fall to me to see to Rowena's needs.

And then inevitably came the day when she didn't come back at all…

**XxXxX**

What a neglectful mother. What a sordid affair to have put her children through! Surely, there was no means through which I could have done such a poor job of parenting as she! These were the thoughts that sustained me as I powered headlong back towards the designated gathering point, Fiona nipping at my heels like an irksome dog.

"Okay Grell, the joke has gone far enough!" She snapped, swinging her arms back and forth like a metronome in an effort to keep up with me. "Put it back where you found it!"

The 'It' she had been referring to, was the small infant I now cradled tightly to my chest, wrapped up in both its' own swaddling clothes and the shawl I had taken from the old woman's body. Well, she certainly had no further use for it and I hadn't yet professed any reluctance to remove a desirable garment from a corpse, so why quit now? Besides, the infant seemed comforted now that someone was attending to it and was blinking up at me earnestly as we made our way, only making me all the more stubborn about my decision.

"No, I'm keeping it!" I hissed back, ducking under a smoldering pylon and nursing the babies' head so that it wouldn't drop as I shifted my body weight. Fiona knocked the beam aside with her death scythe and scooted to my side as though nothing had deterred her in the slightest.

"Listen to me mate," She began, trying to sound sensitive, though I knew she was unpracticed in it. "This isn't just some animal that followed you home! This is a small human being with complex wants and needs, not unlike your own."

Oh, yes, it never quite got tiresome that everyone still looked upon me as an errant child. I narrowed my eyes and stretched up a little, just to cow Fiona into backing away some but she knew me too well to be intimidated by my posturing. "Would you please stop nattering at me, woman? My minds made up! I've always wanted a baby and now I have one. It's clearly meant to be."

"It's clearly a coincidence you silly old slag! There are babies all over the place, in case it escaped your limited attention. You can't be in charge of a baby unsupervised."

I momentarily freed one hand in order to unhook my scythe from the holster on my back and I gave it a downward swing, forcing Fiona to back flip out of the way. I shook it at her as she dusted off her hands, which had made contact with the ground. "E-yah! Don't you go telling me what I may and may not do; you're not my mother! Or Will for that matter!"

Fiona wiped her hands off on her pants and gave me what I suppose was an ironic look. "Speaking of _Will_, just what do you suppose he might have to say regarding this? I highly doubt that he's going to be jumping up and down and clapping his hands together in glee."

I hoisted my nose in the air, trying to appear more nonchalant about this little conundrum than I actually felt. "Well, I don't need to care what Will may or may not say because I'm going to do what _I _want to do regardless."

"Color me not surprised." Fiona muttered, looking completely exasperated by our entire conversation. She sighed at my back. "Grell, could you please stop strutting off long enough for us to talk about this sensibly?"

"I need to do no such thing!" I shot over my shoulder, already well on the way to strutting the hell out of said disagreeable conversation. Fiona grunted in aggravation and before I had a chance to blink, she had rushed to block my path; slamming her pickaxe scythe into the concrete a bare _inch _from the toe of my lovely shoe and effectively barring my path. I was so wild by this stage that I could have darn well kicked a kitten into a meat grinder and Fiona must have known this very well, which is why she looked extra serious.

"Now, you listen to me and you listen good, miss." She prodded her finger against my forehead so hard, I wondered if perhaps she meant to leave a mark. "A child is not something you simply take on in a whim. They take time, effort and constant attention. You have to make sacrifices in order to be an effective parent. I guarantee the novelty will wear off quickly when you realize that having a baby on your hip means staying at home whey they're colicky and not being able to go out and chase men."

"That's not going to happe-" I began in a whiny tone but Fiona interrupted me.

"Oh, don't give me that baloney! You said yourself that you get bored with things quickly! And this isn't something that you can just toss aside and be done with when you lose interest. As you're likely to do. I mean, you couldn't even keep a house plant alive, for fucks sake."

I growled from far back in the depths of my throat, trying to calm myself by making circles on the babies back. It felt warm and lively and wonderful through the blankets and I tried to hold onto this feeling. "I knew that one day you would throw that back in my face!" I gave an indolent huff, hoisting the baby up against my shoulder. "Besides, it might do well to inform you that I was never altogether fond of that plant. Why, the horrid little thing didn't even have flowers! I was quite glad to be done with it!"

Fiona flushed angrily. "Well, do excuse me for thinking a little greenery might liven up your flat, _Princess_. I'll never waste another plant on you!"

I stuck my tongue out at her. "I'd prefer you didn't if they are such boring and unflattering articles. Besides, a baby is far more entertaining than any plant. I won't have need to purposefully starve it."

Fiona growled and raised her arms and gaze skyward, as a means to better demonstrate her exasperation with me. "Oh dear God, you're hopeless! Why, you haven't even thought this through!"

"What's there to think about?" I retorted, equally irked. "The baby needs me and I need something to keep me from going insane with boredom!"

Fiona surged forward, reaching over the babies' head to grab at my collar. I ducked beneath her hand and battered it aside in order to bypass her but she managed to snag a hold of the ribbon bound about the middle of my coat. "That's not a good enough reason to take on a baby, you dickhead! Honestly; are you just so desperate for attention that you'll take on something that has no choice but to love you unconditionally?"

I felt my eyes narrow considerably and Fiona must have realized she had overstepped her mark; her fingers loosened about the coats' ribbon. I shrugged free, stepping coldly over the pickaxe and continuing on my way without further comment to these thoughtless words. I heard the tip of the scythe scrape against the sidewalk as Fiona yanked it free and she soon fell into step beside me, her expression suitably cooled and apologetic.

"Oh Grell… Grell, I'm sorry. That was below the belt…"

"You're always one for that." I murmured, forced to bite my lip less I say something equally as offensive in turn. I'd always been one for letting my temper get the better of me, so it wasn't as though I could truly blame Fiona for this particular slip of the tongue. It had hit a particularly sore point, however and one that I was not entirely prepared to let slide.

"I just…" She looked at me imploringly. "…don't want you going into this with unrealistic expectations. Dear…" Her boots clacked loudly on the cobblestones as she intercepted my path and forced me to a halt by grabbing my upper arms between her hands. I could feel the coldness of the pick scythe's handle press through the thin wall of my shirt. "I do consider you as something of a friend. And I know you. You don't handle disappointment very well." She looked to the side and chuckled a little. "In fact, I would be rather hard pressed to find anyone who copped a let down so poorly. You know that's true yourself. And your emotions overwhelm you until you end up acting impulsively and doing foolish things that you later regret." Of course my mind immediately drifted back to Madam Red and her both timely and disappointing failure to meet my standards. "You need to understand just what you're getting yourself into."

My gaze drifted downward, into the expectant eyes of the infant and my mind in turn traveled back along a catalogue of memories in which I had found myself failed by women I had cared for, time and time again. All the concerns Fiona held about me were quite true but then, so is the fact that many terrible people became parents with no questions asked of their ability. "Do you suppose I could be any worse than my own mother?" I questioned, giving voice to this very rationalization.

"It's not a matter of setting your standards but what kind of Carer your mother was." Fiona murmured and her eyes bore incredible sadness. She had known of my mother, of course. And she had seen what this woman's carelessness had wrought in her children. "For the love of god, don't make this about her. When a woman has a child, she must take everything into consideration. The good and the bad and everything else. We don't measure ourselves up to any other mother but try and do the very best we can. There has to be a certain level of commitment. Grell… have you ever known yourself to be committed to anything?"

It was a fair thing to ask but a question I rather preferred not to answer. "… nothing has ever been so important as to require that level of attention from me." I finally settled upon, raising my nose skyward again. "But… the one thing that holds completely and utterly true, for so long as I can remember, is my want for a child of my own. Granted it's not made from scratch… but that's rather impossible for someone like me."

Fiona sighed in resigned exhaustion and slumped against the wall beside us, face pressed against her forearm. I could practically see the sweat sliding down the side of her face. "Why couldn't you just go on chasing that irksome demon all over the place? It somehow seemed a safer means of spending your time…"

I grinned and poked out my tongue. "Clearly, you didn't know my Sebby."

"And from what I've heard of him, I count myself grateful for that."

"Besides," I said, running my finger over the babies round cheek and wondering to myself whether the poor un was dehydrated on account of the fire. I found these things a little difficult to measure with humans. "Who ever said that I was going to stop chasing him? Clearly you doubt my ability to multi-task, Fiona."

"And your ability to think." She sighed and hoisted herself back into a standing position, preparing to make one last attempt at reasoning with me. "Very well, answer me this then: Where are you going to be keeping the child?"

"In my flat, of course! Where else do you suppose I might put it?" I all but shouted. In our world most Reaper's take advantage of Ministry accommodation, the most popular of which was the apartment complex _Bygone's Den_, to which we were each assigned a flat. Management, such as William, earned a slightly higher wage than the rest of us and could afford housing of a more respectable scale. Not that I minded so much because it meant I was able to stay in close contact with the other workers. And that was useful for scamming favors at times.

"Oh, well all right then." Fiona indolently perched her hand on her hips and waved her pick-laden hand leisurely in the air. "And what is it going to sleep in? A box?"

"Well now, the pot that the plant was in is now available…" I got a box about the ear for my comment. "Ow! Love, I was joking! I'll get a crib from somewhere! Most of the shops around here are vacated. I'll just pinch one."

Fiona rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. Adopted by a Reaper and sleeping in a stolen crib. Off to a good start so far." She waved the pickaxe at me. "What about food, hmm? From the impression I get, the child is still an infant; no more than a couple of months old. It would still be on breast milk."

"Ah yes, that is potentially problematic." I mused, examining my own flat, naturally breast devoid male chest. "Well then, might I borrow yours? Seeing as how you're not putting them to much use as of late." I added, poking her in the breast. I didn't move fast enough to block what I knew was coming and my ears rung for almost a full minute after Fiona's hand clashed against the side of my face and left a stinging welt behind. She sneered at me and crossed her arms tightly over her chest, as if to protect it from further accosting. I can't pretend to understand why. Such a thing provides me with no more stimulation than I might get from poking a sponge.

"Och, just because you're a queer, it doesn't give you a free pass to feel me up, you cretin!" She shrieked, sounding disturbingly like myself whenever someone went for my face in a fight. "And besides, I'm not a mother myself so I'm certainly not lactating at the present time. Why don't you ask William?"

I shuddered at the visualization this unintentionally provoked. "Ewwww… that's an image of Will I didn't need."

"Yeah, me neither. I can't quite believe I actually said it." Fiona murmured, eyes wide. I shook my head to erase that particular little edition of my cinematic record, feeling that only a quart of bleach may have been able to do such a thing and turned my attention back to the immediate quandary.

"Well anyway, shunting that aside to a far corner of the imagination; I know for a fact that you can get formula that gives babies the sufficient nutrients they require at this delicate stage. I did have to take care of my sister when she was a baby, so I do have some experience in this area. I'm not what you would call a novice, my sweet."

"Reaper babies and human infants are two different things, Grell." Fiona said, waving her finger about in the air. "And keep in mind that babies are expensive, darling. How do you feel about wearing the same pair of shoes for the next couple of years? Because you certainly won't be able to afford those little luxuries anymore once there's a baby in the picture."

"I already have more shoes than Italy, so I'm set for the next couple of years." I snapped my fingers at her and then pointed to the side. "Nice try, bitch, what else ya got?"

Fiona scrunched her nose at me. "Changing nappies. It smells. And babies do precious little besides poop, eat and cry."

"If I was afraid of poop, I would have been out of a job a long time ago. Dealing with shit all day, every day is a prerequisite of the Reaper Response Unit."

"That's not the same thing and you know it! I'm talking about literal poop!"

I loosed a hand and waved it across my waistline. "I've worn a corset. I can handle anything."

Fiona scoffed. "Yeah, right. You'll be singing a different tune when you get that first dirty napkin. And babies generally wake up every two hours and cry, which means you won't be getting enough sleep." She used a finger to pull her eyelid down, making her appear haggard and old. "So you'll be tired, with bags under your eyes and you won't have any time to do your makeup and or chase after men. That pretty much sums up your life Grell and a baby drives a knife into the back of all that. Then I know what's going to happen; you're going to dump the precious little munchkin on _me_, and I for one am not prepared to be saddled with some disgusting little human snot rag at this point in my career. I still have life left to live. I'm not old and bygone like you."

My expression stretched to the degree that I'm sure it was most uncomely and I lurched forward in an attempt to stamp on Fiona's toe. She stepped out of the way just in time, unfortunately. "I'm not that old, how dare you!? Besides, if it came to dumping the kid onto anyone, _not that it would_, rest assured that I would certainly find someone more maternal than _you _to take it on. Even Knoxie would make a better mother than you!"

Fiona looked almost as horrified by this thought as she had been by the suggestion of Will breastfeeding. "Oh good god, can you imagine Knox with a baby? What a merry time of misrule _that _will be." She sighed and put her hand on her hip, settling her pick scythe against her shoulder. "Okay then. How about what's going to happen when you need to go to work?"

I was getting exasperated to the point where I simply gave up the ghost in trying to provide logical answers. And so I gave her a ridiculous one. "Simple. I shall strap the baby in a snuggly to my chest."

"A baby in front and a chainsaw on the back. That's a good combination. I'm sure Will'll really go for that."

"Whatever. I'm resourceful." I said, flipping my hair out of the way of my face. The wind was threatening to blow a number of errant strands into my mouth and that was a hell of a thing when you had teeth such as mine.

She tried another approach. "Well, what about education, then? A baby doesn't stay a baby forever, you know. Eventually, they become _children._ And human children need to go to _human _school."

By this stage I was getting increasingly huffy. "Then I'll send it _to school_. There are plenty about the place!"

"Yes and they cost _money_." Fiona rubbed her fingers together. "In case you hadn't noticed, we Reaper's aren't exactly cavorting in the mullah around here."

I shrugged. "I guess I'll just have to raise whatever extra money I should need on my own. I could sell my body on the street."

"Yeah… um, honey?" Fiona petted my shoulder. "No one's buying when you're giving it away for free."

Only Reaper women could get away with speaking to men in this fashion. Most human women would be quickly put in their place and I was quite tempted to exercise these methods against my colleague if she continued to hurl personally degrading slurs upon me. Strictly speaking however, I didn't really consider myself a man and neither did any of the women I worked with for that matter, so there was little I could do without contradicting myself. "Oh, do shut your smart mouth! Whatever the case, I'll find a way to get by! I'm not stupid, despite what you may think. And I'll take a desk job, so I can bring the baby to work. There are options."

"Then allow me to deliver the_Pièce de résistance_, so to speak." She leant in close to whisper in my ear, as though we were discussing the most secretive of matters. "A baby puts one hell of a crimp in your love life. And trust me, you don't need to be any more handicapped then you already are."

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?!" I roared, causing her to spring back fast to prevent permanent hearing loss.

"Nothing that you don't aptly demonstrate on a daily basis, darling." Fiona said nonchalantly, sticking out her tongue and shrugging as though there were nothing more that could be done.

"You're being so mean to me today." I huffed, catching my reflection in a piece of glass on the ground and thinking that I needed to reapply my makeup as soon as possible. I was starting to get that Romanian Peasant look. "And my love life is certainly none of your business!"

"It's no one's business, that's rather the problem." Fiona murmured, trying to make it sound offhand. Sometimes, I hardly know as to what she means when she is insulting me. She either insinuates that I have low moral character, or that I am so unfortunate that no one would ever care to go to bed with me! Either way, it was extraordinarily offensive, especially to a refined lady such as myself!

"Fiona!" I snapped and this time, there wasn't a hint of humor in my voice. "We may be friends but when you talk to me, you'll address me like the lady that I am, you understand!?"

She sighed again, as had been her running theme that night and said more to herself than to me; "This is pointless…" She turned to me disparagingly. "Well, I have done my part. Good luck running this by William, that's all I can say."

"… I'm not scared of Will." I said, trying to convince myself as much as her. Fiona rolled her eyes.

"Don't try and feed me that. Everyone's scared of William. The Spartan's would have run away from him."

"Oh please," I said as I strolled past, giving the baby a little jiggle to assuage its' sudden bout of fidgeting. "I don't buy that for a moment. The Spartan's were a bunch of push over's."

Fiona tittered to herself. "Yes, I suppose you would know. You were there after all."

"Dammit, I'm not that old!" I yelled over my shoulder, earning only an unconvinced laugh in return.

By this point, we had finally made our way into the designated gathering point, where the other Reaper's were lingering about, having obviously met their quota's in the assigned area's. Fiona meandered over to speak with an employee from Over time that I didn't know very well. William was standing with his back to the rest of us, jotting something down in his Death Note as he ran over the Cinematic Record of the deceased man in front of him.

As soon as I walked up, I turned on my charm. (Not that I really expected it to work; only very shallow people seemed to respond to such a display. If it were effective to any true degree, then Sebby would have succumbed a long time ago.) I said to him, "Willi~iam!" But I suppose the way I spoke, made it sound as though I had run out of breath in the middle, because it sounded more like this:

"Wiii-llllll-iaaaaaa-aaaaam!"

William cleared his throat when he heard my voice and adjusted his glasses with his pencil. He did this frequently; even when his glasses hadn't slipped an inch down the bridge of his nose. I think it may have been a soothing mechanism of sorts for him.

"Whatever it is, the answer is no." He said, without turning around.

My jaw dropped. I hadn't expected to win Will over so easily but I had hoped he would have at least heard me out! "W-what makes you think I want something?" I tried to blithely reason.

Will dabbed his pencil over his shoulder at me. "Whenever you want to make something fly by me you always put on that revolting simpering tone. And I'm telling you here and now, the answer is no."

Well, did I feel indignant! I would not have considered my tone to be revolting or simpering in the very least! … Well, perhaps a little simpering if I were addressing Sebastian but that was another matter entirely! When it comes to affairs of the heart, one must boldly lay their pride on the line! "You don't even know what it is!" I spluttered, red faced as the other Reapers all naturally turned to look. A number of them gasped, which certainly wasn't helping my cause. "How can you say no when you haven't the vaguest conception as to what I'm asking?"

Will snapped the Death Note shut so sharply that it sounded like a guillotine blade slamming down upon the gallows. "Very well." He turned to face me and needlessly adjusted his glasses again. "What is it?"

I put on what was, in my opinion at least, my most winning smile and gently raised the bundle, exposing the baby, which twitched and cooed at Will in such an adorable way that only the coldest man on gods green earth could have refused its' presence. Unfortunately for the both of us, Will was just such a man.

My managers' lip twitched ever so slightly. "Absolutely not." Without another word, he strode past me and started cataloguing the details of a soul from the body just behind me. I spun around, foisting the baby under his nose again, just so he couldn't avoid the cuteness. This didn't seem to have any obvious effect, so I took to plea-bargaining.

"But Will-!"

Will used one finger to push the bundle away from him. "Don't, 'But Will' me, the answer is _no_." He now stuck this finger in my face. "You're an acting agent of the Reaper Response Unit, though it pains me to admit it and a child is too great a technicality. Besides which, you are completely and utterly irresponsible. You're not to be trusted with the long term sustentation of any living thing."

I finagled the baby away from him and against my body as tightly as I dared. It gave the tiniest squall of objection but I was able to shush it with a slight jiggle of my arms. "But _Will_ that's where you're wrong! You seem to be operating under the misassumption that I have come across the baby during my Reaping duties." My brain was whirring, working on an excuse that would see me the glorious victor of this little exchange. Unfortunately, I didn't always come up with the most reasonable of ideas on such short notice. "I didn't find the baby at all; I gave birth to it, all on my own!"

Will's brow quirked at this unlikely pretext. "No one gives birth without some manner of assistance, Grell Sutcliffe. And how remarkable that you haven't shown in the last nine or so months." He poked my abdomen with the tips of his shear scythe to indicate where exactly I might have otherwise 'shown'. "Your genetics must be favorable."

I beamed warmly. "Mustn't they? Well, that is indeed the tried and true tale! And since it is my own child, my right to keep it supersedes occupational legislation."

William again snapped his Death Note shut and turned on me with a decidedly dangerous look in his cold eyes. "Grell Sutcliffe." I did so hate it when he used that tone of voice; it indicated the definitive shift into business. "I'm finding this whole story just a little hard to swallow, especially since you are _not _a woman and haven't the-" He again pointed to my abdomen, clearly at a momentary loss for words. "-the- biological gyro-mechanics in which this-" Now he turned the shears at the infant, using the pinching mechanism to clasp the edge of the swaddling clothes and lift them up a little. "– _child _could have gestated."

I instinctively pulled the baby away, using the side of my body to shield it and pushing Will's death scythe aside so that its' points clattered against the ground before he was able to retract it. It made me so angry for him to have done such a thing that I quite nearly saw red! "Don't you point that dangerous thing at my baby, you creep! Have you no sense whatsoever?!"

Will pushed his glasses up with the shears, seeming not the least concerned over my tantrum. But then again; he never reacted emotionally to much of anything. Even to demons, which he hated. "The question here is; have you taken leave of your own? I do think the answer is comparatively clear." He looked out the corner of his eyes at Fiona. "I expected more from you, Fiona Ashmore. It is a poor impression on your part to allow him to get so invested in this inane notion."

Fiona was lazing back on a windowsill, munching an apple **(1)** and obviously trying to dissociate herself from her part in this. "Don't look at me boss, I've washed my hands of this one." She made a definitive Pontus Pilate like gesture, which made me smile despite everything. We Reaper's were loyal to one another, but only to a point. If we fucked ourselves over, that was our own business. For instance; most of my colleagues whom I considered friends had been horrified when I'd been hauled in following the Madam Red incident; looking as though I'd 'been in a fight with a meat grinder and lost' as Knoxie had delicately put it. However, none of them went so far as to say that I didn't deserve it and not a one of them would have put their hands up to take revenge for me. Not that I would have allowed it in any circumstances. No one tries to beat up on my Sebby but me! And even that had lost its' appeal after one good serving of my comeuppance. Cuddling him would be so much more appealing than cutting him at any rate… hmm; I seem to have lost the train of my thought here… moving right along.

"Don't blame Fiona," I said, showing a rare display of protectiveness for my equally fiery workmate. "She did everything she could to try and talk me down. You can't hold her accountable for my extraordinary pig-headedness."

"That much is true, I suppose." Will looked back and forth through the pages of his book and then closed it with a deep huff. "I haven't the time to deal with such idle folderol. I want that child dealt with under appropriate operation standards."

At this point, I abandoned all effort at being charming and went directly into freak out mode instead, holding the baby behind me as though Will was advancing with his shears at the ready. "No Will! You can't make me reap my own baby! What kind of monstrous cad are you?!" I focused some attention on my eyes and was soon rewarded for my efforts as tears sprung from the corners and started rolling down my cheeks. Will delicately set his fingers against his temple, the slightest frown caressing his wrinkle free features.

"Stop. Don't even try that on. I've had a long day and I'm very cranky." For Will, 'very cranky' constituted a _smidgen _of what others might say was normal emotion.

"I _know_ but this is something I really need you to take seriously, please!" I snuffled, tears rolling down my cheeks. In a remarkable show of fine timing, the baby started crying as well, which made us sound twice as unbearable and my case considerably more persuasive. A slight vein was beginning to protrude from Will's usually flat-ironed forehead.

"Stop crying. And you," He addressed the baby. "Stop crying too. Grell, you're being embarrassing and irrational."

I took another dramatic turn from crying mode to angry mode, which took very little effort because I had a fairly uneven temper anyway. "Don't you _dare _call me irrational, you know that makes me crazy!!"

Will's eyebrows sloped just the _tiniest _bit further, enough to indicate that he was well on the way towards succumbing to anger. "I am your _manager _and it is my job to regulate the Reaper response unit's activities. I get final say on what may and may not go and to this out-and-out stupidity, I say _no_. That's final."

I took a deep breath, wanting to be reasonable but figuring it wasn't likely to get me anywhere anyway. "It's MY baby."

At this, Will lost his cool. Well, as much as Will _can _lose his cool. Without pausing to take a breath, he delivered the following: "Noitisnotit''tkeepitthat''sfinal."

Believe it or not, I was able to understand this perfectly, as I myself had been scolded by Will in this manner a number of times. Often, I was called on to translate by other workers; such was my experience in the matter. I took a moment to prepare my rebuttal.

"Why no Will, it's _not_ just some child I have picked up off of the street, it is _my_ baby and you can't force me to give up my own flesh and blood. I'll have you up for unfair dismissal."

This, at least, is what I formulated within my head. What came out of my mouth unfortunately, sounded a little less eloquent (and was only composed of two words, the second of which was 'you') but I would prefer that you think of me as being rather more refined than how I might appear in reality. Find it in your heart to indulge a lady, won't you?

Will by this stage was obviously getting a headache and just wanted the conversation over with, which was most often how I got my way around here. "Very well." He finally said, transmuting the book to the Reaper Library and turning about, looking at me so intently it would seem that nothing in the world interested him so much as to hear my explanation. "I shall give you the benefit of the doubt. If this is indeed your baby, then there must be some manner of lover in the picture. So far as I understood it, you were at this present time, definitively single."

To ask a lady such a matter, was of course completely unprecedented and I would have pointed this out to him if I couldn't already have anticipated his response. That I was of course, not 'technically' a lady. I felt my cheeks flush a little at his blatant audacity just the same and looked to the side, muttering to oneself, "Why is everyone so keen on rubbing my nose in my lack of love life, all of a sudden?" I turned back to Will and chuckled with a most engaging smile. "Well, I am single, yes. But accidents _do_ happen. A lady can't always be mindful of such things, right?"

Will absorbed this for a moment and gave a small nod of consent. Our fellow Reapers all appeared to be demonstrating a colloquial effort in holding back bodacious whimsy, which was a mighty fine thing of them to exercise. "I see. Well, perhaps you might nominate with whom this mistake occurred." He held up a finger as my lips parted to speak the name of the only person (at this present time) to whom I wanted to bear children. "And _do not _try to sell me on the ridiculous idea that it is that demon's spawn, or I shall _definitely _be getting rid of it without hesitation." He clacked his shears together threateningly and I shut my mouth quick smart, laughing nervously. Oh, but how nice it would be to have had the opportunity to bear the children of such a fine creature as Sebastian! Making love with someone was one matter but to bear their offspring, something of their own blood and genes within your body; why it was the very ultimate means of consuming them entirely! It makes me shiver just to think about-

I realize I am drifting from the point again. I do apologize. It seems to happen with alarming frequency, doesn't it? Well, the mind of a woman is a most fickle thing at the best of times.

"Oh no, Will! It's no such thing!" I assured, shaking one hand free. "This baby… well… you see…" Lost as to how to continue this ridiculous charade, I took to jiggling the baby on my hip, very aware that the other Reaper's were staring at me and seeming to find the whole affair incredibly funny. "… you see…" I swallowed heavily, trying desperately to think of what to say. Will was tapping his shears threateningly against his shoulder, awaiting an answer that didn't appear to be coming. "… the uh… 'father' is… now, it's a little embarrassing but…"

And it was then that the answer to my prayers dropped quite literally out of the sky. A wee happy voice in the distance carried over the rooftops, drawing our eyes collectively upwards. Someone was coming towards us and singing in a decidedly accented voice as they made their way.

_"The lantern bearer lights the way_

_For those that no more seize the day_

_Blind eyes peer out from every head_

_That crowds the carriage of the dead!_

_Nor coin, nor crown can halt times flight_

_Or stay the armies of the night_

_King and villein, lad and lass_

_All answer to the hour glass!"_

A cheerful looking young man, standing astride what we reapers referred to as a 'mower-scythe' chose at this particularly delicate moment, to _launch _himself off of the roof above our heads. He came crashing down heavily into the middle of the group, causing no damage to the mower or himself in this seemingly dangerous endeavor. I did however have to jump sideways to avoid being landed on, not that this was a particularly new thing. The young fellow what had made this dramatic entrance flicked back his head, tousling fashionably styled thick reddish blond hair. He wore rectangular glasses and a messy suit; his tie hanging at half check. He showed off a wide set of teeth and plonked his foot down on the engine of the mower, leaning his arms on the handle casually.

"That. Was _FREAKIN' AWESOME!!" _He hooted, throwing his fist up into the air, much like a human heckler at a cricket match. "I am so pumped! We're havin' a one Hell of a party tonight!"

Will checked his watch indolently. "You're late checking in, Ronald Knox. As per usual."

Knox _as usual_, look unperturbed by Will's cold greeting. "Oi, I got here as fast as I could, Billy. And haven't I told ye not tae go using my full name like that? It's so stiff and formal!" He stood up straight and tall, extending one hand palm up and rolled his fingers as though flexing in preparation for playing the piano. "Call me Knox!"

"Call me William." Will said with a naturally expressionless look. Knox, of course, took not the slightest notice.

I waved my arm up in the air to get our rookies attention. "Heya Knoxie!"

Knox turned immediately at my summons and waved back in an equally exuberant manner. It looked as though a street, rather than three feet of concrete separated us. "Heya Foxy! Heard you're offa probation, boss! Waydda go!"

Knox and I got on very well; partly because I enjoy the company of all handsome men but mostly because he was a true joy to be around. Though, I must confess that things had not always been so jovial between us.

**XxXxX**

Knoxie had been born and raised in the Reaper equivalent of Scotland and that is where he conducted his training. His accent was very thick and he often used a lot of cultural specific terms that most Londoners aren't familiar with but I got, because my father had been from the district of Glasgow; which was just about as ocker as you could get. But Knoxie had come from Alva, in Clackmannanshire, which so far as I knew, was productive only in its' coal mining industry from the River Devon. He had entered the Scotland based Ministry at the earliest opportunity and completed his training in the towns and villages of that region, before requesting a transfer over to the London based division. Fortunately, there had been a number of availabilities at the time, due to increased worker burnouts and the transfer had gone through without any significant hitches. I'm sure, knowing Knoxie as I do now, that he had been thrilled to finally join a larger, more diverse workforce. There were ample opportunities to be had; mostly amongst the female populace. As we soon came to realize; Knox was never short of a girlfriend and I do suppose he was quite charming. Most women loved his accent and I must admit; it rather had me hooked. After the awkwardness of our initial encounter had passed.

I should explain. You see, I mention the kind of town Knox came from for one reason entirely; to demonstrate how narrow minded he once was. By no fault of his own, of course. But Knox was what we would call her in Brit, a 'bloke', through and through. He drank a lot of scrumpy, he told a lot of crude jokes and he even engaged in bizarre drinking games such as the aptly named; "Dance of the Flaming (ahem) assholes". I've unfortunately seen this demonstrated. (I hadn't the good sense to stay in the women's bar where things were significantly less revolting but the alcohol considerably lacking). When sufficient alcohol had been consumed, there would be a call for volunteers and Knox was only too willing to hop on atop the bar with all the other madmen, knock down their trousers and have a rolled up page of newspaper crammed into their backside. The end of each wad would be set alight and then the jolly lunatics would dance (or attempt their most accurate drunken impression of what dancing might otherwise be) while the others sang a little ditty. The winner would be whoever pulled his newspaper out last. In the spirit of 'Ye olde Alva Yin', as he had been nicknamed back in the Scots office, Knox never lost a competition. (I can't imagine why anyone would be proud of such a thing but there you go…)

He was one you couldn't accuse of being shy and retiring. And yet despite carrying on a treat like this, the first time we met, Knox considered me the most bizarre thing he had ever set eyes on.

There is a bar in our world that the Reapers most often frequent after hours. Knoxie had just been transferred over and Oliver, also from the Response team, had bought him down to the pub to get him acquainted. After speaking with just about everyone (and even stopping a while to play the guitar for a few gals) he was eventually dragged over and introduced to Fiona, myself and another close friend of ours, Alyssa. He had reacted to the girls quite charitably of course but when I stood up and offered my hand, he pulled away quite obviously and without any no percussions whatsoever, proclaimed; "Sorry mate, I'm ain't shakin' hands with nae gimboid ginger. Don't know how much gism is in the ol' fister!" And then he laughed because, as he told me later, he hadn't thought for a second that I understood a word of his Scottish slang.

But as I previously mentioned; my father had been from Scotland.

Gimboid meant; an idiot or a fool. And it was probably quite true. However, 'ginger' was a disparaging term for 'homosexual'; as 'queer' rhymed with 'ginger beer'. My father himself had called me this a few times, so I knew perfectly well what it meant and quite how offensive it was. It was also naturally a reference to my hair colour, though Knoxie had hardly any reason to run his mouth off either. 'Gism' was… well… I balk at sounding completely unsophisticated here but I suppose true to life matters are never quite so censored. Gism, referred to semen. 'Fister'… well, that's not a ladylike thing to talk about let alone do and I had never so much as _considered _engaging in it, let alone going through with it. So, let us say that I was not so impressed with this manner of an introduction.

"Oh, I see." I said, bringing Knoxie's laughing up short. "Gimboid, as in 'idiot'. Ginger as in queer and 'fister', basically, that I'm kinky. Not to mention that my hand might be covered in spunk." I pushed my chair aside, Alyssa all the while begging me not to start a fight and grabbed Knox by the tie. "Ever had your ass kicked by a _Ginger_, you skinny looking gimp? Coz today's that special day!'

Outside we went, straight into the gutter with everyone following behind and cheering on. Therein followed a number of 'Gor blimey's!' from Knox as I kicked and punched and slapped the dear fellow to within an inch of his eternal life, Alyssa screaming at me in the background to stop 'beating up on the rookies' as if it were a new development. After all was said and done and Knox and I were staggering about opposite one another (he managed to get one punch in that wobbled my jaw and caused it to click disconcertingly for a day or two) our newest addition wiped blood away from his upper lip, looked over at me and burst out laughing.

"Mate! I had it comin' tae me! Yer tougher than ya look, cobber! I owe ya an apology and then some!" He strode over and grabbed my hand in a hearty shake and then pulled me in for a tight, strictly he-man hug. "Aye, ye got my respect! Let's clean up and then I'll buy ya a Guinness and smooth things over."

**XxXxX**

Well, it certainly smoothed things over. We talked well into the night and have been firm friends since. Furthermore, on account of this very incident, Knox treated me with more respect than any other employee in the Ministry and referred to me as 'Boss', even though I was only a senior to him and hardly a 'boss', so to speak. Not that I objected. And though Knox was a definitively straight man and I was a homosexual, we still managed to get along like a house on fire. We would also jokingly call one another 'wife' and 'husband' whilst in the office sometimes. Not that I would have ever want a husband like Knox; I'd never be able to sleep at night for wondering what he was up to. When together, we made a rather dynamic team and got up to all sorts of fun.

Which is how I understood that he might be the only one who might have gone along with my undeniably asinine plan.

Fiona gently tapped the back of her hand against Knoxie's chest. "Don't go congratulating him just yet. I think he's about to go back on it." She said, referring to my probation. Knox whistled, looking surprised.

"Gee that was fast. What you gone done now?" He leaned in knowingly, cupping a hand about his mouth. "Killin' hookers, again?"

I laughed nervously. "Now, you know I've given that up. No, I was just telling Will about our new addition."

Knox was naturally confused by my wording here and cocked his head to the side, indicating as much. "_Our_ new addition?"

"Yep." I winked slyly, at the same moment sending Knox a mental message that I could only hope by some miracle, he would receive. "_I need you to read my mind now; just go along with anything I say."_ I turned to Will with a large smile on my face. "Knoxie's the father."

Knox, who had obviously failed to receive my mental message, bore an expression of utter antipathy as he slowly raised a finger and pointed to himself. "… Father?" It's quite true; he probably never believed he would ever have cause to refer to himself by such a title. Knox wasn't the kind of guy to wait around and see what damage his little liaisons caused. If he _did _in fact have any children out there, he most likely did not know about it.

Fiona examined the last of her apple before giving it a hearty toss into some still amber cinders on the other side of the avenue. "Yes. Um, Grell has had a baby."

"And you are apparently the cause." William added without so much as a shift of expression.

"Congratulations." Fiona said, also without a hint of inflection to her tone. I wasn't quite sure what reaction to anticipate but Knox was kind enough to have a cranial relapse at that exact moment and took this improbable development in his stride. The junior Reaper's eyes welled over.

"I'm a daddy?" His lip trembled with a gleeful smile and it was obvious that he was completely sold on the idea. Absurd though it was.

"I must say I'm surprised." Will interjected, taking a moment to adjust his glasses behind which cold eyes were pinched in at the very corners from obvious strain. "I had no idea that the two of you were involved."

I shrugged. "Well, you know these things happen. Right Husband?" I added another wink for encouragement but it didn't seem to matter either way. Knox was completely on board with the idea by this stage.

"I'm so happy!" He sobbed, sitting down, covering his face with his hands. Fiona rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, looking very tired all of a sudden.

"Do you know the sex?" Will asked, offhand. I chose to misinterpret his meaning and I do wish I could say it was for comedic effect but that however, would be a blatant lie, friends.

"Do we ever; it's how we got pregnant!"

There was an awkward silence that suggested I hadn't gotten the general gist of what Will had been saying.

"… I meant the sex of the baby." He re-phrased delicately, looking increasingly more irritated by the moment. I laughed, feeling my cheeks burn a little from being caught out in an embarrassing moment.

"Oh, of course!" I laughed again, mainly to cover my awkwardness. "Well, that was ever embarrassing! The baby is… it's a… um…" I went quiet for some time, stumbling across the conclusion that I hadn't actually a clue as to what gender the child was. I hadn't bothered to check! Still, it was either one or the other. I might have gotten lucky with a guess. "… boy."

Will stared nonchalantly at me. "A boy."

Knox was by this stage completely convinced of his paternity and leapt back to his feet, clearly excited. "I'VE ALWAYS WANTED A SON!!" Seemingly amazed at this alarming coincidence, he raced over and hugged me tightly to his chest. "We'll be so happy! I can teach him to play cricket, and fly kites and go fishing and play tag and we can have wrestling matches and we can hold hands and we can drink orange juice together…" **(2)** He trailed off into a complete blubbering mess, sinking slowly down to the ground, still clutching my waist. I petted his head imperturbably, feeling that this day must have been very trying on everyone's part.

"I see." Will stated, taking a moment to lean closer and examine the baby. I could smell old spice wafting from beneath the cleft of his chin and it was rather pleasing on the nose. "Yes, indeed it looks as though this is a boy. It is wearing blue after all… however, I must admit I'm rather intrigued by the design."

My heart skipped a beat and I examined the baby more closely to discover that the blue jumpsuit the baby was wearing had woven images of a decidedly feminine nature; such as ponies, flowers and the like. And there, smack dab in the middle of the upper right hand corner was sewn a large pink flower. When inspecting the infants face it occurred to me that it certainly looked much more like a girl. Which was no deciding factor for me; truthfully I would have much preferred a daughter to a son. I think we would have had more in common. What it meant however was that I had just put my foot in it _big time_. "That would be… because…" I was thinking so quickly I could almost hear my brain droning. "…because I uh… like feminine designs." I quickly switched foot from defense to offense. "DON'T YOU JUDGE ME FOR WHAT KIND OF CLOTHES I PUT ON MY CHILD!!"

Knox stood up suddenly, eyes glowing behind his glasses. "What?! No son of mine is gonna be seen in girly shit! Get him some manly clothes on the double!!"

By now, Will had most certainly had enough. He struck both Knox and I atop our heads with his shear scythe, causing my ears to ring disconcertingly for the next minute or so. "That's quite enough. Grell Sutcliffe; that child is _not _yours, not that I was ever at any given point close to believing that it was." He pointed one long finger down at the bundle swathed in my arms. " It's at least a few months old, has brown hair which neither of you have and is a GIRL, which obviously escaped your attention!"

I scoffed, foisting my nose upward. "How can you be so sure? You haven't looked at it that closely."

"I've seen enough of it to be sure that you _certainly_ did not give birth to it. There's an easy way to tell; YOU. ARE. A MAN."

I glared at him from the corner of my eyes. "You haven't looked at _me _that closely either… which is kind of a shame really."

Knox contemplated this insinuation for a moment and seemed to decide that he rather did not like it. "Ew." His expression then morphed from outright disgust to indignation. "Wait a minute; you mean you… _lied _to me? I feel so used…"

Fiona huffed at him, open-mouthed in prospective shock. "What, you actually _believed _you were the father?! Is there something going on between the two of you that I should be made aware of?"

Knox scratched his head in something of a clueless manner. "I have had a few nights that I can't remember… Boss lives just across the hall… anything could have happened…"

" … You're an idiot." Fiona grumbled, rolling her eyes back until just the whites showed. Knox glared down at her with obvious strain about his mouth and held up one hand as though indicating she ought to speak with it.

"You're just jealous that people actually want to have my babies."

Fiona arched up on the tips of her toes, a vein distending to a threatening degree on her forehead. "Grell wants to have everyone's babies, that's _not _an achievement to be proud of!"

Their usual child like banter was interrupted by the arrival of our other regular co-worker. Alyssa Utteridge dropped down from the rooftop, carrying her long reach hedge clipper styled death scythe over her shoulder. Alyssa possessed long blonde hair done up in braided cats pigtails and was in the habit of wearing very dark, gothic eye makeup with dark red lipstick. Her uniform was a standard woman's suit, neatly worn to a degree so anal it might have given Will's a run for its' money. Knoxie immediately reverted to a goony idiot at the sight of her, clearly smitten. His affections were a moot point, I must say however, as Alyssa had eyes only for Will. But that, friends, is a sidetrack we needn't take in this recollection.

"Sorry I'm late, William." Alyssa said, smiling sweetly and looking very contrite. Will didn't seem to care either way but he didn't bother to chastise her, such as he did Knox, so I suppose that was something. But then again, Will was always much more of a gentleman to the female staff; myself excluded for reasons that were perhaps more obvious to anyone else. "I was investigating the point of disturbance on top of the bridge and I found something a little strange…" She made to pull something out of a sling she carried across her chest but paused upon seeing the baby I held pressed against my chest. She glanced back and forth between everyone. "Do I even _want _to know?"

"I'd rather prefer _not_ to know, if given the alternative." Will muttered with only the slightest of sighs. He really must have the _worst _issues in regards to repression. One can't help but wonder what might happen if someone were to aid in unleashing all of this pent up energy… But one doesn't wish to appear crude.

Fiona yawned, sitting herself down hard on the sidewalk and running a hand back through her incredibly disheveled hair. "Grell and Knoxie had a baby."

I'm not sure whether to be offended or not, but Alyssa didn't look as surprised by this as would have been reasonable. "What? Together?"

"Of course together; making a baby is a team effort." I stated, mind straying to thoughts of what a 'team-effort' with Sebastian might have been like. I was certainly in an odd mood that night. Was it spring time already?

Knox jumped to his feet, looking rather frantic. "WE DIDN'T HAVE A BABY I WASN'T EVEN IN TOWN THAT WEEKEND!!"

"You changed your tune rather quickly." Will observed, glancing over something in his Death Note, apparently bored with the conversation. Knox glared at him in response.

"No one is gonna ruin my chances with a cute girl, not even my so-called-not-son." He added.

"Not-_daughter_." Will corrected.

" I don't give a shit!"

"Language!" I scolded, doing my utmost to cover the liddle un's ear so she would not pick up on that sort of uncouth language so soon. Alyssa wandered over to take a look and immediately started to fawn over the baby, as I knew she would.

"Ooooh, she's so cute. Look at her lovely hands; they're so tiny."

I felt my cheeks warm with brimming affection. "I know! Isn't she darling?"

"Alyssa, hun, please don't encourage Grell." Fiona grumbled, inspecting her pickaxe scythe for any damages. "We're trying to make him give it up."

"That trick didn't work with smoking my dear, it certainly isn't going to work for baby."

"Her mother died in the fire, I'm assuming?" Alyssa asked, looking up at me with her heavily made eyes. I frowned threateningly.

" I didn't kill her myself if that's what you're insinuating. And I'M the mother!" I added quickly. Alyssa waved a hand lightly to indicate that she had meant no offense by her asking.

"Sure you are, love. I'm just checking, can never be too certain with you. I sure would like just a little hold, if that's all right?"

"Knock yourself out." I said, gently passing the baby over to Alyssa, who carefully cradled her tiny head in one hand, whilst supporting the lower half of her body with the other. She looked so small and helpless and I pined to have her returned even after only a mere moment of separation. Alyssa smiled with genuine affection, pursing her lips to make a cooing murmur, to which the baby offered a curdling giggle. This was apparently more than Will could stomach. I heard the pages of the Death Note snap shut _again._

"No, no, no!" He demanded, walking over to us so quickly it wouldn't have surprised me if he had set his pants alight from the rapidity of the material rubbing together. "Don't love her _please_ she'll think she's staying. Haven't any of you learnt anything from observing Sutcliffe? Give an inch and they'll run a mile."

Knox ambled over to stand behind Alyssa's shoulder and gazed down at the baby, granting her a thorough inspection. "Come on, Will. Ya gotta admit;" His face melted into an expression that could only be described as 'gooey' in the very definition of the word. He was a soft touch, that one. "She's pretty cute."

Will's eyes slowly closed as though he were praying the darkness would meander out and encompass this entire scene in blithe nothingness. "Whether it is 'cute' or not is inconsequential. You are only playing along now because you wish to be in Utteridge's good graces."

Knox laughed obnoxiously loudly and then put his back to Alyssa, his expression morphing into one of pure tyrannical fury as he hissed seethingly under his breath to our senior supervisor. "Don't cock-block me!"

"What's intended for her?" Alyssa asked, clearly having missed this minor exchange. Her eyes had been focused on the baby the entire while and I now held a hand to the infants' narrow back, feeling the breaths rise and fall reassuringly against my palm. This sensation truly was to die for! How could Sebastian so easily negate the 'waste of man' without further consideration of the sublime wonders it could bring? It was really the greatest shame!

"I rather haven't decided." Will declared, turning away from Knox's infuriated expression with no more care than he might have shown a mildly interesting painting. "I'm far too busy thinking of what I intend for Grell Sutcliffe."

I flinched like a scorned dog at hearing this and hunkered down sheepishly behind Alyssa. "You're always picking on me, Will…"

"You're always bringing it on yourself."

Alyssa smiled at Will in the manner of a patient mother, as she ever so gently nursed the baby in her arms. I might have said she was a natural at this, if I hadn't known that many years ago, Alyssa had given birth to a child of her own. This child was grown up now and had gone on to work in the Wales Division of the Ministry but they still kept in regular contact. Alyssa too had been initially awkward when first handling a newborn baby but she had slowly but surely grown accustomed to it. As I was certain I would, if given the opportunity.

"Will," She said temperately. I noticed my senior's shoulders relax by just the slightest fraction of a hair but it was enough to indicate that Alyssa's tone had some effect on him. If not much. "Try not to be so hard on Grell. I see no reason why he shouldn't keep the baby if he so desires."

"Finally! Some support!" I squealed gleefully, wrapping my arms around Alyssa's waist and giving it a slight squeeze to show my appreciation. She smiled over her shoulder at me before returning her eyes to the infant in her arms.

"I've raised my own child and managed to perform my Reaper duties accordingly. I'd be glad to provide assistance to Grell if he thinks it appropriate." I nodded energetically, indicating that such assistance would have been most appropriate indeed. "Besides William, the Ministry has support services in place to help employees who might be caring for a child. You know this quite well."

"They do?!" I turned on Will with my lips puffed out into a bona fide pout. "Will! You've been holding out on me!"

Will seemed to be praying for patience and he cleared his throat with obvious disconcertment. "It's not the support that I have issues with, Sutcliffe. I simply doubt your capacity to care for anything other than yourself and even _that _is questionable. By nature you are childish, immature and completely and utterly devoid of common sense." Well, he certainly wasn't holding anything back, was he? "These qualities are entirely unsuited to raise an infant. They have limited self-protective capabilities, are vulnerable and susceptible-"

I cut him off with a sharp and prim gesture of my hand. "I've heard all of this already, Will!" I took the baby back off of Alyssa and nursed her defiantly across the line of my shoulder, glaring at Will over her coveted head. "And I've just about tired of it! I can do this! And I _will _do this, Will!"

"Well that sounded weird." Knox remarked offhand.

Will looked for a moment as though he were going to start yelling at me. Or worse yet; downgrade my death scythe to something indeterminably more embarrassing than twin nail scissors. But he surprised me in fact by doing neither of these things. He sighed deeply, eyes squinted together so sharply that he appeared almost Asian for a moment and glared off to the side as he pushed his ever-errant glasses up closer to his eyes. It was comparatively clear that I did not have him in the least bit convinced of my capacity to parent, nor was he in any way genuinely agreeable with my decision. How hallow a victory it seemed! "Fine." He conceded, his voice dour. "You think that you know better than the rest of us; _fine._ Do as you please. However," He distended the shears so that the tip poked me sharply on the end of my nose, giving me quite a fright. "You will receive no additional financial assistance from the Ministry to account for this. This is _your _decision and you and you alone will be held fully accountable for it. And you'll still turn up for your full working day, as per usual. Don't think that you'll receive any allowances or special treatment because of this child; you're not exempt from your regular duties, do I make myself clear?"

I glared haughtily back at him, pushing the scythe away with the tip of my finger. Sometimes, my temper was so bad it got the best of my fear of my cold and dispassionate supervisor. "Crystal. You just watch, you bully. I'll be the best Mama ever! And then I'm gonna rub your nose in it!"

Will made a cranky sound that was quite impossible to interpret. "I know I'll come to regret this." After a long pause, in which he appeared to be contemplating the bleakest of futures, William slowly regained his cool composure and opened his eyes, turning their hawk like gaze upon Alyssa. "Well? What is this 'strange thing' you came upon? Don't tell me it's another baby?"

Knox crossed his arms and pulled a skeptical face. "What in the blue hell would a wee ben be doin' up yon' the London Bridge, Will? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"You're the one who believed you'd somehow fathered a baby with another man." Fiona cut in, climbing to her feet and dusting off the back of her pants. Knox looked insulted that his reasoning for this decision was not outright obvious and that she were positively stupid for not recognizing it herself.

"I was playing along tae be _nice_." He explained in a deliberately slow voice, as if speaking to one who was a wee touched in the head. Fiona frowned up at him incredulously. I do swear, if either of these two were to recognize their chemistry, they would do quite dangerous things together!

"Oh please, you'd eat a maggot if I told you it tasted like a grape."

"I would not!" Knox whined like a child. Alyssa held up a hand, expressing just the barest hint of exasperation. With the exception of perhaps myself and Will, she was the eldest member of the team and had remarkably come so far without reaching burnout stage, like so many other Reapers's had. William's had been very long ago and had left him cold as ice as a result. Mine had been during the Madam Red incident, in which boredom had underpinned my motives; such as they were.

"Guys, come on." Alyssa sighed softly as Knox immediately zipped his lips and stood to attention like a perfect little Buckingham soldier. Fiona just rolled her eyes at his display but did as she was told, having the utmost respect for Alyssa. Once Alyssa was sure she had their attention, she gave a delicate nod of ascension before turning her eyes back to Will. "Anyway, I went to assess the damage just like you told me but there wasn't much to be seen. The Angel's body was so badly mutilated I could barely piece it together to make an appropriate identification." I suppose it would surprise most humans to hear of us speaking of bloodied mutilation in such a casual fashion but I again remind you, dear person, that there really wasn't much more to our lot than this very thing. How then could we not grow accustomed to it? "I'd just finished cataloguing the scene and was about to head back when I noticed that there was something left over."

"Which was?" Will asked, not seeming the slightest bit concerned for what was to happen next. If he had been able to anticipate such a thing, I'm quite sure he would have taken the sling from about Alyssa's neck and speared it through with the shear's many a time over. A premonition was not to be had however and I remain grateful for this; given all that has happened post wit.

"This." Alyssa said, speaking with appropriate reverence as she reached down in the crook of the sling and slowly revealed what appeared to be a human arm; severed from the upper shoulder. The arm was still covered by a black sleeve and the hand was sheathed within a seamlessly white glove. I observed the meaty serration of the flesh and the precise manner in which the bone and nerve endings had been sliced through. My reaction was perhaps the calmest of the lot.

"JESUS H. CHRIST, that's a fucking arm!!" Knox shrieked, sparing no thought for decorum as he sprinted a short distance away in order to hide behind Will. "Why the Hell are you holding onto that for?!"

Will groaned audibly, rubbing at his temple with one hand. "Why do my staff insist on being so odd? I ask them to bring me souls and instead I get babies and severed appendages." He took a moment to once more reclaim his composure and adjusted his glasses. Here was a man who seriously needed to take up smoking. "For goodness sake, Miss. Utteridge, why did you feel the need to bring that with you? Surely there are… apt opportunities for you to indulge your hobby in a less delicate situation. Clearly this belongs to one of the victims. It hardly requires any special attention."

I was inclined to agree with him and was about to relay my put upon thoughts regarding Alyssa's bizarre tastes in the unfavorable, when the obvious suddenly came to light. "Hold the phone…" I murmured, leaning down in order to better examine the length of the arm. It was extraordinarily familiar; even the cufflinks shining in the flickering light from the still burning flames, took my mind to a place far removed and into ever deepening beguilement. Alyssa nodded, sensing that I too had finally made the same observation as she.

"I too got that impression. This feeling… it's indefinable." She lifted the arm, revealing the piece of bed sheet that she had wrapped around it. "I had to wrap it up just so that I could carry it comfortably."

Fiona came wandering over for a closer look. "What in the blue blazes are you two talking about – Ah!" She stumbled back a step as I hurriedly pushed the baby into her arms, overcome by irrepressible emotion. "Hey!"

"Hold her for a second, Auntie."

"See, what did I tell you?" Fiona growled, looking even more put upon by the fact that Knox was laughing at her losing her temper. "Not five minutes and you have already fobbed her off!" Her voice became almost deranged at this point. "And I'm no one's 'effing Auntie!!"

I sighed in exasperation, indicating that she was being incredibly difficult. "I said a 'second', woman, don't go getting your bloomers in a knot!" With that being said, I turned my attention back to Alyssa and moved shaking fingers down to carefully lift the arm from her grasp. I had no difficulties handling it, such as she apparently did; but then, I did not have the same concerns with this manner of flesh, as did my fellow employees. I felt the dead weight of it and then, with my heart beating to the degree that it was almost painful, I gingerly peeled back the glove, exposing fingernails painted iridescent black and a glowing purple sigil burned into the back of the hand. Will hissed in undisguised disgust.

"A demon's contract… so this must be…"

I swallowed in a throat that suddenly felt much too dry, heart panging painfully as I looked the arm over, feeling the soft skin of the forearm and the delicate underside of the wrist. I'd only ever _dreamed _of doing such a thing… though of course, in a rather different context. "It's…" My eyes teared up in delighted, almost tearful surprise. "It's Sebastian's arm. That… angel must have slashed it right off." I examined the end of the arm again, wanting to be far more certain of the injury now that I knew it was Sebastian who had endured it. "It's a clean cut… made with a single swift strike. Probably quick… Still…" I tucked my lips in over the curved points of my teeth, feeling both sympathy for my treasured one and anger that anyone else would have dared inflict such a grievous act upon him. Why, cutting the flesh of such an extraordinarily beautiful man was a privilege and to think that that… _whore_ of an angel had the satisfaction…! Why, it made me so angry to think about it, I very nearly screamed! "It must have been very painful for him…"

"Why on earth would you care?" William asked, though he didn't seem to genuinely want an answer to this. To me, it sounded altogether too much as though he were daring me to explain myself. Knox cut across my otherwise response with a useful misinterpretation.

"Are you kiddin'? Where the hell you been the last year?" He laughed, knowing full well that I had spoken of nothing _but _Sebastian and always went off on a mission that might possibly involve him with a smile that near wrapped around my head. Alyssa and Fiona both also chuckled their appreciation of this but looked suitably wary at the same time. We all knew just how Will felt about demons. And we all knew very well why.

I too should have felt the way that he did but I rather couldn't help myself when it came to those things that I wanted. To me, Sebastian was not a demon in the definition of one. Seeing his arm right there before me, made me realize just how sorely I would miss him if he were to leave this world for the next. And suddenly, the pain of this became mostly unbearable. It was positively horrid to give your heart over to something so entirely, simply to have it squirm from your grasp. Before I could quite grasp what I was doing, I felt the night air envelope my fingers as I slid off my own black glove and shakily ran my fingers up the hands palm, through Sebastian's cold fingers, feeling the indents between the joints. I had never before touched his hand with the bare flesh of my own and the feeling was that of utmost pleasure, such as I imagined it would be. Realizing that everyone was staring at me, I tried to make my actions seem purposeful rather than perverse, by clutching the fingers and pushing them down and in towards the palm.

"Rigor mortis hasn't taken hold yet…" I mentioned, admittedly intrigued by this myself. "Either this happened recently or…"

"Or the arm is still very much a part of the whole." Fiona finished for me. "How could that be?"

We were joined then by a distinct snickering and all looked over to see the Undertaker perched on a nearby doorstop, chewing on a bone shaped biscuit. I could have melted at the sight of him, if my attention hadn't been mostly taken up by thoughts of Sebastian at that mere moment. As I previously mentioned, the heart is indeed a fickle mistress.

"It isn't obvious?" Our once most esteemed and legendary Reaper remarked, in that casual grace of air he always possessed. "That arm contains the demons portion of the contract. Without it, he cannot complete the deal that he has made with his master." He sucked up the last of the biscuit as casually as any other person might take in the flack of spaghetti. "The arm and body are maintained by the existence of that bond. It will remain whole and intact… until such a time as he returns. To retrieve it."

Will was the only one of us that didn't gasp at this. Though I gather we all exclaimed for entirely separate reasons. Mine was an exhalation of both relief and joy at the chance of possibly seeing Sebastian again. Fiona and Alyssa sounded naturally shocked but Knox appeared positively, grievously horrified. His own gasp came out like a strangled shriek.

"E-yah, wait a minute old guy! Yer sayin' that this Sebastian is gannae come searching for this here thing?!"

The Undertaker continued to smile and inclined his head with a soft chuckle. Even knowing who he was in the past, didn't change the fact that at present, he was a considerably creepy guy. Knox stared at him in open-mouthed shock and then his yellow eyes bore downward towards the black-sheathed arm clutched in my very accommodating hands. I could see the little mechanics ticking over in his head.

"And we're all just standing here around it?! Why don't we just go sit on a bomb?!" Before I could so much as brace myself, Knox had snatched the arm like a sticky fingered filcher making off with a coin purse and was running full bore towards the harbour with it raised high above his head. "One o' ye get me a brick and we'll weigh this fucker down!"

Well, I'm sure if you summon your imagination, you can quite imagine how this little short-lived journey went for Knox. Not three steps away from completing his idiotic quest to hurl Sebastian's lovely limb into the dark undertows of the sea, Knox found himself heavily tackled to the ground by a very fervent retainer of said object. I'm sure my expression must have been frightening, enforced by the pervasive revving of my droning death scythe which I then leveled between Knox's eyes, as though I intended to slice his skull in half, directly down the centre. And I quite meant to, should he have gone through with what he had intended. I relayed my thoughts to him in a composed and orderly manner.

"YOU THROW THAT," I said. "YOU _DIE!!_"

Knox's face was squashed into the pavement but he still managed to formulate a reply, for which I could only admire his tenacity. I knew from personal experience just how difficult this could be. "Boss, we can't keep a hold of this thing!" He pushed me back and then staggered unsteadily to his feet, nursing a lump on his head that resembled a goose egg. I took advantage of his confusion and immediately wrenched the arm off of him and hugged it tightly to my chest. Knox made a feeble swipe as an effort at reclaiming it but I flipped backwards and landed daintily on my high-heeled feet as a means to avoid it. It was showy and unnecessary but a lady does what she can. "Come on Boss! Now I've never met this _Sebastian_ but I saw the frickin' mess he made of you last year. It looked like he used your face for a gravel sled!"

I felt a little sour at the mention of this unfortunate memory but tried not to let its' true impact register on my features. A lady always keeps on top of herself. "You don't need to remind me! I'm still picking sidewalk out from between my teeth. But times have changed since then… we have… _had _a more amenable relationship as of late." He'd let me hug his arm to his chest as we had sat in that church, observing the cleansing ritual of that strange cult I had been investigating. That had to count for something, no? "I don't want that ruined! Trust me; you try and hide his arm away; you're only likely to piss him off. Then_ you'll_ be the one eating the pavement."

"Sutcliffe is right." Will said. We all looked at him in shock, myself included. "We need to think about an appropriate means of handling this. Obviously, I shouldn't mean to suggest that we intentionally seek out the demon but I wouldn't risk the safety of any one of our agents by purposefully withholding the contract from it."

"Then what do you suggest we do with it?" Alyssa asked, entirely professional in her manner as always. William gave her a little look that I found difficult to interpret. It seemed to me, as though he was somewhat frustrated with her but wasn't at all sure how to convey it.

"Quite simply, we shall return it to where you found it." He narrowed his eyes at Alyssa. "You should have never removed it in the first instance. You've possibly endangered us by doing so. Demons are not rational. If it should think that Reapers have interfered in its' contract, there's no telling what it might do."

I sighed impatiently, reaching out to Fiona and taking the baby back into the crook of my spare arm. "Hold on a minute, Will." I said, pressing her against my chest whilst I tightly clutched Sebastian's arm in my spare hand. "How was Alyssa supposed to know any different? She consulted with you, as per procedure. Don't be so hard on her."

Will's harsh eyes burned into me now. "You are the last person I would expect a lesson on modus operandi from, Grell Sutcliffe." He fluttered a hand inconsequentially at me. "Hurry on now and deal with this. We've dallied far too long as it is."

"Too right!" Knox agreed, stretching one arm up high and bracing his elbow with the other hand to work out a few kinks. "Come on lads, it's getting' kind of heavy here! Let's put that there arm back and kick on! I've got a staff party tae be getting to!"

"There is no room in the budget for a staff party, Ronald Knox." Will said flatly, causing Knox's jaw to almost drop entirely off of his face.

"Whaaa~aaaat?" He whined. "You mean, I pulled this after hours stint for nothing? Right!" He threw a fist in the air, as though declaring a momentous decision and turned to the other Reaper's gathered around us, raising his voice to broadcasting level. "Party at Grell's place! Number 201! BYO!"

"Why _my _place?" I groaned, knowing full well how long the mess from any one of Knoxie's parties would take to clean up.

"Because _mine _is still a wreck from the last party." He replied reasonably, giving me justifiable grounds to be afraid for the continued sanctity of my own flat.

"Do as you like but deal with _that _first." Will demanded, pointing to the arm with his shears and curling his lip in repugnance. He could barely look at my lovely's limb without pulling that uncomely expression. It really was most offensive; even if I could very well understand his anger at the Underdweller race for what had happened all those years ago… Why, even someone as enchanting as Sebastian wasn't enough to entirely eradicate those age-old feelings that I too had maintained for the longest while…

I stinted on this, clutching the baby securely in one arm, whilst lightly clenching the material about Sebastian's severed arm with my free hand. I truly didn't want to return the arm to its' resting place. No… what I truly wanted was to see Sebastian again. To give up the arm would be much like tossing aside the ticket to a grand opera. You have no chance of getting through the door without it! But I knew this would not suffice as a convincing argument in my favor. It had to be something more reasonable than this and less selfish on my part.

"Will…" I began. "If we put the arm back… then the demon can conclude his contract. He'll devour the boys' soul. Are we entirely sure that this is a good idea?"

Will closed his eyes, speaking in a voice that suggested he was at the end of his tether. "What we are entirely sure of, Grell Sutcliffe is that what the boy has chosen to do with his soul, is none of our business. He made the contract, therefore it is no longer our responsibility to concern ourselves with his fate."

Well, I couldn't very well argue with this when he had stated it so rationally. And it occurred to me then, that if I were to take responsibility for returning the arm, then how was Will to be sure that this had actually happened? I made up my mind then and there to oblige in the verbal sense at least but I would take the arm with me. There was absolutely no way in Hell that I was going to give up this rare, unforeseen gift that I had been offered. The chance to see Sebastian one more time… to speak with him, perhaps if I was lucky be even closer to him… Oh sure, he hadn't been amenable to such things in the past but who could say for certain what things might be like now that his irksome little master was about to expire?

No… I couldn't let this go by the wayside. It was too delicious an opportunity. But of course, no one else had to be privy to my plans. I shrugged my shoulders, putting on an expression of complete and utter compliance. My finely tuned skills as an actress were all preparing me for this; my ultimate performance. Well… ultimate if I was able to obtain my long sustained desire by the time the curtains fell that is.

"Then… I'll return the arm." I said, employing just the right amount of reluctance in my voice to suggest that I wasn't at all pleased with this solution but was willing to go along with it. Fiona however, read me like an open book and looked to me with raised brows and an entirely unconvinced expression.

"Yes… um… I'm not so sure you should be trusted with that, Grell. This is _the _Sebastian's arm, right?"

Knox looked at her and they shared a knowing chuckle at my expense. "Oh yeah, _the _Sebastian. I think I'd better deal with this." I hadn't the time to deploy any suitable evasion tactics before Knox dashed over and snatched the arm clear out of my fingers. I went to go after him but all I got was an insulting pat on the head with Sebastian's hand as Knox held the other end of it. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Boss. I'll make good and sure to leave it exactly where he can find it."

"Knoxie ~" I whined, looking at him with imploring eyes and thinking of all the times I'd gone out of my way to cover for him when he played hooky with some girl he'd met five minutes ago. It seems such favours are ever too easily remiss when it's your turn at the plate now isn't it?

"Boss, you got enough to be gettin' on with. You're a mama now, right? Go get the baby some things!" He tucked the arm behind his back and held out his other hand, flexing his fingers to provide some active encouragement. "Can I have the key to your flat?"

I grumbled as I fished the key out of my vest pocket and dropped it into his gloved hand, thinking I should have known better as his fingers curled around it. "Fine. But once I get back, you guys better keep it down so I can put her to sleep."

"I'll take the baby and set her to rights in my flat." Alyssa offered, taking the baby off of me and gently nursing her. "She doesn't need to be dragged all over sundry when she can be having a rest. I have an old crib you can take. And some formula. You'll just need to grab some napkins, some clothes and maybe some fresh bedding." She turned to Fiona who seemed to be staring off into nothingness with her perfect oval face pierced into unattractive wrinkles at every corner. "Come now; don't be like that. Lend a hand?"

I batted my eyes at her and then wriggled my shoulders in a ploy to appear cute. "Come on Auntie. Who else shares my impeccable taste?"

Fiona groaned as if the weight of the entire world were coming to rest upon her delicate shoulders. "Fine." She pointed at me. "But I do hate you." She then turned to Knox who continued to grin at her, uplifted as usual by her poor mood. He was a bit sadistic, that one, not that I'm in any position to talk. "I'm warning you; don't you _dare _invite a whole bunch of people tonight. Close acquaintances only. And when I say 'close', I mean, not people you've only met the once or twice."

Knox looked appalled by her statement. "Ah, so dull Fiona! Maybe you don't care about getting lucky, but I do!" He flinched away as Fiona drew back her arm to smack him. "Okay, okay I promise! Just close friends. Geez…" He pushed the mower scythe towards us with his foot. "Can someone be ever so kind as to return my scythe while I'm running this wee errand?"

It was just a simple transmutation spell but the scythe would need to be assessed for damages and the like before it was to be returned to Ministry storage, which would take a little while. Clearly, Knoxie didn't want to dally about with it. Fortunately for him, Will was just anal enough to take on such a favor without complaint. "I'll see to it." He said, hitching up his glasses again as he knelt and set to work assessing the scythes condition. Knox grinned widely, showing off every tooth in his head in the process.

"Awe-SOME!" He cheered, saluting with two fingers against his forehead. "Well, I'd better bolt! Oh, if yer gannae be oot and about Grell, do me a favor and grab us a bottle of scotch would ya?" He fished out his wallet and passed me over a couple of pounds before I could either agree or decline. "Cheers, mate. Oh, and a packet of smokes. You know which brand I like. And maybe a couple of brews, if you should find any-"

I pushed his hands away. "Knox, I'm always happy to take your money but most of the shops are deserted at this stage and or burned to the ground. I won't need to be paying for anything."

Knox stared open mouthed and appalled. "Yes, you most certainly do! I may have low moral character but I won't be a party to thievery! Now, you leave that money on the counter when you take what you be needing or I won't be impressed!"

"What, so other looters can come along and filch it? I think not!" I leaned over to wrap my arms around Knox's neck and give him an affectionate hug. "Our little rookie Reaper is such a dunderhead… Anyway, don't you worry about it none. I'll grab a few things for you. I need to get smokes myself so it's not really going out of the way." I reached with my hands towards Sebastian's arm but Knoxie extended his own out far behind his body, just out of reach of my grasping digits. I was fit to be tied.

"Aww, cheers lad!" Knox said, wrapping his arm around my neck and giving it an affectionate squeeze. He waved at the others over the crown of my hair. "I'll be catchin ye all later! Be sure to shoot round for drinks if ya wanna be popular! TTFN – Ta-Ta-For-Now!" And with that gusto out of the way, our much loved rookie leapt up onto the rooftops and quickly shot off like a bullet across the laneway and into the distance, taking my last chance to see my cherished darling away with him. I kept trying to remind myself that the welfare of my baby was now paramount, not chasing about all over the place after the severed limb of a cold (if not entirely beddable) demon butler. And yet I found myself quite unable to drag my eyes away from the rooftop to which Knox had just vacated, wondering if I should perhaps take off in pursuit and exercise a little office pecking order policy. Unsurprisingly, I found myself quite unable to put such a plan into action much as I wanted to.

Will concluded his inspection of the mower scythe and with a curt gesture of his hand, sent it back to the Ministry's arms section for storage before then turning to the gathered Reaper assembly. "I expect your reports on my desk by Monday afternoon. Until then, enjoy your weekend."

Alyssa looked slightly disappointed. "Not gonna join us tonight, Will?"

"Social events aren't really my thing." Our Manager said, turning and walking off to parts unknown. Fiona sighed after him, slouching to one side with her hands set against jaunty hips.

"Man… a guy that handsome shouldn't be so uptight. It's completely unsexy. Don't you agree, Grell?" I gathered that this was what she had said because I truly have little recollection of what it was that she had asked of me. Naturally as it was, she received no reply. "Grell?" When this still failed to elicit a response, she turned to me with a put upon expression. "Say, you all right, old man?"

I remained locked in silence, my thoughts occupying my entire attention as I stared after Knox and into a sky that was choked with smoke. It brought to mind an analogy I'd once heard; that a person whose house is burning to the ground around them quickly makes up their mind what it is that is important to them and rushes to save it. However, when I then tried to think of one thing that would matter to me after Sebastian disappeared, I could think of precious little that I would seek to salvage if in fact the walls were to burn up around me. My entire point of focus had been namely him, over the course of the last year. It had sustained me in a way that I do not entirely understand, even now, having taken all things into account. What could I then do, armed with such knowledge? It angered me to think that this matter, of which was so defining in my life, could be taken entirely from my hands and I imagined then, looking into that amber hue sky, that I was again a child, wrenched from all responsibility and left to wander in a barren wasteland. And as I gazed upon that far off tableau speckled with hints of rusted red and gray, it looked so much like fire consuming the very walls all about me that I felt for one horrifying moment that I might be the sole living creature in all the world.

**XxXxX**

And so, not less than an hour later, my luminous shopping bags and myself came to find ourselves on none other than London Bridge herself.

"_We that are true lovers run into strange capers, but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly."_

I had always had an affinity for Shakespeare and this particular quotation from _'As you like it'_ seemed the most appropriate, given the circumstances. The bridge was in a terrible state; the cement pylons scoured by burns and deep gash marks from what I could only surmise had been Sebastian's true form. My heels clicked heavily against the concrete as I made my way across the high rise, soon tempered by the squishing of pooled blood and other assorted body matter. It wasn't altogether long before I came across the angel. Or rather, what was left of it.

"Oh, my, my, my… Sebby certainly did a number on you, my dear," I noted, shifting my weight to one side as I surveyed the rendered corpse before me. Something squished wetly beneath my foot and I glanced down to see that my heel had speared through what I could only assume was a spleen. "And he said _I _was one for making a lavish mess. Different story altogether when _he _is the one doing the splashing, mind."

Alyssa had done a reasonable job of reassembling the Angel but by the by, to suggest that Sebastian had done a 'number on her' was largely an understatement on my behalf. She/he was a mess.

The wings had been torn away at the roots and the feathers routed in great chunks. They were strewn about the place, sopping up puddles of blood from where they had fallen. The arms had been dislocated from the joints of the shoulders, elbows and wrists, so that it looked to me as though Sebastian had simply taken up the misguided creature by the hands and stretched it to breaking point. The angel lay on its' back but the gaping hole in its' chest revealed jagged bloodied edges as evidence that the back had been violently ruptured. The heart had been removed and savagely serrated by what appeared to be teeth not unlike my own and the head itself had been sliced away, just above the chin, leaving the lower row of teeth attached to the neck and throat. Alyssa had placed the top half of the head back atop the serration but it had at some point since then, rolled onto its' side, revealing a twisted pink tongue and trailing spinal stems.

The flesh of the face had been partially slashed away by claws perhaps five to six inches in length and the eyes had been torn from their sockets. I couldn't see where they might have been deposited but the gathering number of coastal birds swarming ahead gave me some grisly idea. As though this degree of desecration was not quite enough, both legs had been twisted about entirely at the knees so that the bones had splintered and snapped through the flesh. It was a horrendously violent death, beyond that of even mine and the Madam's final victim and in my humble opinion; entirely deserved.

Do not get me wrong, humble person. Those without sin are hardly in any position to judge and I was certainly the last person who possessed the right to take up stones. Angela had however been a nuisance of a categorically more malign nature than myself. Since before my time, she had existed quietly enough as a liaison between the Purgatory Ministry and Heaven; transcribing instructions from the Celestial realm, aiding in the transference of positively judged souls and so forth. But she had lingered far too long on earth and became disillusioned with the judgment process itself; how sin was judged and the means by which we could set aside some misdemeanors depending on their impact and severity. She found us to be hypocritical and detrimental to the continued sanctity of the Heavenly realm, in that we permitted some sins to bypass the gates. You might say that she/he was fanatical in its' methods and saw no absolution to the continued inviolability of purity, other then to eliminate all sinful, filthy and 'evil' things. This too, encompassed what most of us might consider the most irrelevant of wrong doings, such as a passing impure thought about someone of the same sex. (Naturally, I would have been first in line for Hell without a second thought if she'd had her way). And so, disgruntled at the ever failing standard of human morality, Angela/Ash, set out to flood the world in fire; like a modern day divine from the Noah's ark fable and re-birth a pure, untainted race of humanity through this contrary conflagration.

I could have saved a great deal of time just then and simply told you that she was, in the laymen's speak, fucking nuts. But hardly fun insane such as myself. Crazy, unreasonable, self-righteous nuts. She/he probably came onto my Sebby too, which was another reason why I was quite glad that she was dead. Her time was through and Heaven should have dealt with her following our notification concerning her breach of human free will in the Ministry library, rather than just sitting on the fence as they always did. As it was, we would no doubt be held accountable for allowing our liaison officer to be brutally slain by none other than a demon of Hell but fuck it, that's what you get for trying to destroy the world.

I used my handkerchief to scrub spleen from the point of my heel and then casually tossed the soiled article over what was left of Angela/Ash's face.

"Good night, sweet prince," I said, feeling in a slightly poetic mood. "And good riddance to cheap rubbish."

Perhaps I ought not to have felt so cocky. After all, not a good year ago, Sebastian had very nearly done the same thing to me. And he could very well do so still, if I continued on down this slightly absurd path.

But that was the beauty of being a woman; we were prone to spontaneous acts of the unreasonable. And I simply could not permit the curtains to swing shut on the final act just yet.

Ah, now I suppose you might not consider me a particularly choosy creature. After all, I have expressed attraction for… well, just about any handsome man I have ever met. But it may surprise you to learn that my tastes are not so shallow as they might first appear.

Ankou, (or 'Undertaker', the highly unglamorous name by which he now preferred to be addressed) was a legendary Reaper; something like a famous actor by our standards and this, more than anything was what had attracted to him. It certainly wasn't his current appearance, which was ever _so _out of Vogue. And Will… well… let's just say that there's something to be said for a handsome, well-groomed man who expects to be obeyed that just sends a certain shiver down a refined ladies spine. But neither of these men, or any man really, had ever reached deeper than that easily pleased outer shell of mine and touched the emotional core of myself. Sebastian, more than anyone, had such an effect on me. And why you might wonder? He was not such an esteemed man. Not even so esteemed a demon from what I had gathered. Demons of great power, very rarely need to form contracts in this day and age, though it was certainly the most secure means of acquiring a soul without incurring the infringement of the Ministry's summons department.

No, Sebastian was first and foremost just, 'One Hell of a butler'. In _so _many ways… There was just… _something _indescribably piquant about him. More than that thin, handsome face, impeccable manner and steadfast perfectionism. Deeper than those sharp eyes that always twinkled whenever he found something amusing, or those delectably sharp lips that curved upward at the very corners when he smiled, seeming both sinister and mischievous all in the one breath. There was just… something. And everything. Just thinking about him made my stomach ache with a sharp little pain.

I wanted him. Plan and simple, cut and dry. Though, to be truthful, I really hadn't the vaguest conception myself of what I might do should I ever be so fortunate as to acquire him. Why, my attention span was so limited, I could plan no further ahead than perhaps kissing him in the way of the French. Probably, I would just sit and stare at him for hours, lost to everything else around me.

Knox had said that I was 'besotted' and I do think that this is the word that best describes my feelings for Sebastian. When I had found my baby, I figured that I had also found a means through which to refocus my attentions. But the discovery of Sebastian's arm had fanned new flame from the burning embers in my chest. Perhaps Alyssa had known this; by returning with the arm, she had purposefully permitted me to make one last chance at seeing Sebastian and quelling these searing coals of adoration forever.

And that was a chance I was certainly not going to waste.

I stepped over the fetid remains of the angelic and made my way further across the bridge. I found that I was looking for behind a stack of building materials.

To my great relief, it had not yet been retrieved, though Knoxie hadn't taken any chances in it being missed. He had used chalk to draw a circle around it and a number of large arrows pointing to it, with great thick lines meant to represent attention grabbing light, I supposed. There was a long train of writing to one side of the circle, reading:

"_Dear Mr. Daemon;_

_Here is your arm, safe and sound. Please take it and go about your business. This is not a trick. We, the Reaper Response unit, wish both you and your arm all the best for the future._

_Fond regards;_

_He who prefers to remain anonymous on fear of being found dead in his bed._

_P.S: I regret to inform you that I was unable to stop Grell from touching your arm. However, you needn't concern yourself friend, as he only touched the fingers and I took the liberty of washing them for you."_

I rolled my eyes, thinking that I would have rather liked to have slapped Knox for that comment but I wasn't supposed to be seeing it. The arm had been set down on a piece of material, most likely a pillow slip and Knox had gone to the trouble of affixing a pink ribbon about the wrist. I yanked it free with one irritable tug, knowing from first hand experience that Sebby would have never tolerated such an unflattering article. It was _so _undignified for a man of his standing. And the colour didn't at all suit him in the least.

I picked up the arm. I felt its' weight against my fingers, the coldness of the flesh through the thick material covering it. My breath shuddered as I worked my fingertips against the wrist, registering the comforting elasticity of the flesh, then felt my way slowly up, fingering the crease between the meaty flesh of the thumb and the ball of the palm.

I smoothed my fingers down along the lifelines and then back. And then, with an ache that resonated through my body, I slid my fingertips up through the creases between Sebastian's fingers. I delicately stroked each finger, loving their long angular shape and even pressed back the cuticles. I was rendered breathless and excited with morbid appreciation; having spent idle nights dreaming of caressing Sebastian's hands in such a personal adoring manner. Sebastian's hands held such fascination for me, for it was only on very rare occasions that I had ever seen them. It wasn't often that he removed the gloves and when he did, it wasn't something you especially wanted to stick around to watch.

And suddenly, despite everything, I was envisioned by the most errant desire to pull my tie away, spread the halves of my shirt and press those cold lifeless fingers against my neck and trail them downwards, feeling their caress upon my flesh. It wouldn't be anywhere near as exciting to have been the recipient of Sebastian's willing attentions but then, the likelihood of this occurring any time in the immediate future wasn't in my favor. And I wasn't so cheap a woman that I had any need to resort to such crude methods to attain pleasure. Despite this, the temptation was still there and it burned so earnestly that it was almost impossible to resist. I cradled the arm to my body as gently as I had held the baby only an hour earlier, caressing one finger across the underside of the wrist and tracing the vein line. It was strange to think that only hours ago, blood had been pumping beneath this flesh; along the arteries and through the capillaries, so red and vibrant… I though of Sebastian's eyes, as deep and dark as the jetting scarlet tears that had spurted from his wounds when we had danced our vicious waltz beneath the moon together. My fascination with the vocation of the flesh came from a lifetime of dealing with the soul; with the immaterial. And as much as I longed to connect with Sebastian on a physical level, I understood all too well that this wasn't the extent of who and what he was. I wanted to know all sides of him. This was my chance to do so.

I had no idea of knowing just how long it would take for Sebastian to return for his misplaced limb and perhaps I was feeling a little audacious, because I didn't leave right away. Was it that I hoped he would turn up then and there? I imagine it was because I wanted to suspend and preserve that delicious feeling of excitement for as long as possible. Returning to my stagnant world would only submerge me back into the drudgery and small irritations of reality. I carried the arm to the overhang of the bridge, pulling my hair back from my face and allowing it to drift through the breeze behind me. The fires of London were in the process of being extinguished and a thick choking smog hung over the eaves of the city like a bulbous toad. I could still hear the far off cries of the injured and grieving masses, the shifting and creaking of buildings foundations collapsing in upon themselves and the insistent crackle of what fire continued to burn. I panned my eyes down along the lines of the darkened streets; wondering if Sebastian was lurking there even now. Perhaps his eyes were on me at that very moment; burning with purple ire, knowing that I now possessed his portion of the contract that would see him freed from mortal bonds. I felt my lips curve into a cunning smile as I rolled my tongue up over my teeth. Any Reaper worth his weight wouldn't have foiled his own chances by playing such a dangerous game but I had always been a strange creature to say the very least. Thinking that Sebastian might have been watching me at that moment, maybe with anger surging through his body… I couldn't keep the grin from stretching across my face and a small giggle erupted from my throat. This was simply too much fun! Playing with this demon…

I gently lowered myself down and slung my legs over the side of the bridge, crossing them at the knee and draping Sebastian's arm over my knee. It had been a long night and I'd held off a while, so I decided to delay my return to the Reaper world and took a cigarette from the Duke of Durham **(3)** packet in my vest pocket. The soothing tobacco filled my lungs as I inhaled, gazing out over the desecrated city below me. I wondered how long it would take for the humans to clean up the mass dead? Given a day or so, I imagined the streets would stink to high heaven… I could still recall the days of the plague; a particularly good working period for the Reaper Response unit; a travesty for the humans who were forced to endure it. It had been an extremely messy affair; walking among the streets, on route to my next job, assailed by the pungent stench of decayed and disease ridden bodies left unclaimed in the offshoots and shadows of Europe. I could say this much; the odor of burned flesh was none too appealing either… I was quite glad that the majority of Reaping had been dealt with on that evening in such a thorough manner… Oh sure, a number of humans would pass on from their injuries in the next couple of days and weeks following but in the very least, we wouldn't have to troll the streets seeking them out.

I flicked ash off over the side of the bridge and watched the orange ember spiral off into the black water of the river below. It put me in mind of Sebastian's ebony hair… But then, most things made my mind turn to Sebastian… I suppose I really was obsessed. I wondered how long it would take for him to come find me? I didn't doubt the Undertaker's word for a second; he had extensive experience and unrivalled knowledge of the Other World. If he said that Sebastian would need to return for his portion of the contract, then I was certain that he would. But then… if Sebastian needed the contract it begged the question; wouldn't he have known to retrieve it before going… well, wherever it was that he had gone?

My thoughts were interrupted by what I could only describe as a scraping noise that came from somewhere to the right of me. My reflexes had always been excellent and I immediately jerked my head towards the sound, surveying the area over my right shoulder. It would have been ironic when my mind had been on Sebastian's appearance for him to have turned up at just that moment. Something moved from the corner of my sight, like a shadow shifting and sliding between spaces. I felt a presence there but it evaded me when I tried to focus on it. I took one final drag on my cigarette and then flicked it over the side and down into the ebony undercurrents to be extinguished. Without taking my eyes off of the seemingly empty area behind me, I rose slowly to my feet, Sebastian's arm clutched tightly to my chest. My heart pounded against the wall of my chest, echoing up through my body until the entire night seemed to reverberate around me.

"Who's there?" I called, shamed to hear my voice quaver in a not at all attractive way. I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched and I wondered whether Sebastian had finally returned to reclaim what he had lost. It was true I wanted to see him but not in this setting… with no time to consider what I might ask of him. "Little Sebast, if that's you hiding back there, then you should know I don't take kindly to surprises. Why not show your handsome face and spare us both a world of trouble?"

My words fell on silence. Not a sound. I waited a while longer and came to the decision that if it _was _indeed Sebastian lurking in wait, he would show himself soon enough. In the meantime, I could wait. I scoffed softly to myself as I eased back down onto the concrete pylon, raising the severed arm and allowing the cold fingers to brush tempestuously against my throat. If Sebastian were to witness me behaving in such an audacious manner with something that was once of his body, why, I doubted he would be able to stand it! But nothing came hurtling out of the shadows at me and I felt an excited little tingle race down through my loins and heat my body. I raised the hand so that its' fingers fell against my lips and I kissed the tip of each before sliding my chin into the palm and imagining to myself that it was Sebastian caressing my face in such a manner. I allowed my mind to drift towards uncultured thoughts; meeting Sebastian at some place and feeling his hand upon me like this; ever tender and reposed, befitting of a lady such as myself. I murmured softly as I trailed the fingers over the curve of my cheekbones and then down past my ear and over my neck, into the hallow of my throat and across the ever unattractive bulge of my Adam's apple. And then, quite suddenly, I sensed that Sebastian's fingers were not where I had felt this touch; they were on the other side of my neck. The cold caress to my jugular had come from someone else entirely.

I meant to move but before I had the chance, two distended pale arms had wrapped themselves around my shoulders, squeezing me tightly with bones audibly scraping together. A rattling voice exhaled against the flesh of my ear, sending splatters of cold fluid against my check. I clenched my teeth anxiously; pupils shifting sideways to what I surmised might have been my imminent death. But I sensed almost right away that it wasn't Sebastian; the fact that I was still alive was a testament to this. Confused and somewhat relieved, I tucked my heels up tightly beneath my rear and pushed myself into a standing position, breaking away from the arms that scratched burning marks across my throat and chest in an effort to regain a hold of me. I hopped backwards in order to perch upon the splintered end of the steel pylon, gazing in repulsion at the horror that had impudently beset me.

An Angel's soul has greater tenacity than the limitations of its' physical body and I should not have been remiss of that when looking upon the 'would be' corpse of Angela/Ash. Alyssa had accorded the body timely respect by placing it back together but in doing so, had given the creatures spirit enough hold to work towards healing the injuries. The head had fused back together, though the top half remained at a crooked angle. It had managed to reclaim one eye in its crawl across the roof and this one stared at me from beneath bedraggled and bloodied silver hair, one mangled hand reaching out imploringly for assistance. Certainly, it remembered me as an employee of the Ministry but I too had been there when she'd attempted to rewrite the Cinematic Record of Ciel Phantomhive and failing that, had locked us all inside of the Reaper Library. (One of my very least favourite places). I looked upon this wretch of a thing with utter repugnance and distaste.

"Well, I'll be. There's life in the old lady yet!" I proclaimed, brushing at my neck to remove the droplets of blood and goodness knows what else she had left behind. "So, Sebastian didn't kill you entirely after all. I confess; I'm a little disappointed in him. But I suppose it makes sense in a manner of speaking. After all," I displaced a little energy and leapt across the space diving us, landing on the Angel's head with both feet at once, crushing her skull down into the concrete support with my heels. She was in terrible shape and I felt the spikes of my shoes collapse through the fractured wall of her skull and penetrate perhaps even further. It almost made me lose my balance but I kept my footing out of sheer determination, concentrating energy towards my free hand and feeling the affirmative steel handle form beneath my fingers. I depressed the lever and the scythe's sonata break into a fevered pitch as I raised it across my shoulder, my lips hitching upward to expose my teeth quite involuntarily. "You _never _send a demon to do Grim Reaper's job!"

With a flurried exhalation, I dropped the rotary spines of the scythe down, feeling chills of pure pleasure race up my back as the chain cut down through the Angel's side and strayed further and deeper into the now vacant chest area, sending up torrents of thick, congealed blood that I had to dip my head to avoid. The angel made a throaty exhalation, like a dry screech as the blade scraped against its' breastbone and then with a skilled jerk of my hand, I separated the right arm, the entire right side of the chest, part of the neck and bit a veritable chunk from the chin, cheek and forehead. I smiled gleefully as I freed one foot from the vixens' skull to push the severed half of the body aside, watching as internal organs spilled out in glorious mixed reds and deeper darker colors for which there were no words to best describe. The cinematic record burst forth from these razed serrations and spun through the air about me but I had no such desire to view these indolent celestial's memories and simply bore them down into my Death Note, setting my completed stamp upon the transcription. Perhaps I would look at it later. Most likely, I would try my utmost to keep anyone from recognizing my part in this. The demon having killed our liaison officer was one thing but if it should ever come to light that I dealt the final fatal blow, not out of mercy but out of some sense of vengeance and (let us face it) perverse pleasure, then it would not only be myself that would suffer the consequences. Our entire unit would be held accountable for not having kept tabs on me.

But honestly, what could I have done? This witch of a creature had injured Sebastian terribly and done many irrational and unreasonable things besides. (Though it may have been hypocritical coming from me). There were always excuses I could make to justify why I had killed her. And I _was _very good at worming my way out of trifling situations.

I wrenched my heel free from the irksome doves skull and uttered an unladylike oath to see that the sides had been scratched. "Uh, you really are an uncomely thing. Now look at what you have gone and made me do! What have you done with my handkerchief? Last I saw it was on your wretched face. Where have you left it?" It wasn't in my immediate line of sight so with an impatient sigh, I used the hem of the Celestial's tailcoat to once more clean my shoes off, staining the white of the material considerably more than it already was. I tugged it away from what was left of the body and used it to clean first the blade of my scythe and then my face, ensuring that no blood had tarnished my lovely complexion. I dabbed at a few spots on my clothing that would no doubt need to be heavily soaked in order to remove them. When I was done, I slid the jacket back onto the corpse, not wanting to make it seem as though I'd interfered too greatly with the body in any way and smoothed back my ruffled hair, feeling a few disconcerting kinks at the base, caused by sweat. I would need to straighten this out with the flat iron when I had the time set aside for personal attentiveness. With a new baby in the picture and work to cap it all off, I wondered when next I would be able to sit down and take some time for myself. It was certainly important that I look my best for when Sebastian turned up at my doorstep…

With this thought, I leaned over the angelic's remains with what I suppose must have been a contrite expression. "It occurs to me now, that I was perhaps a little hasty in my treatment of you. After all, if it were not for you slicing away Sebastian's arm, then I might never have had the opportunity to see him again. I suppose I should be grateful to you." I mulled this over a moment, feeling my lip slowly unfurl and flick outward as I turned with a huff, sending the scythe back to the storage area of the Ministry. "But you're dead now. What's the point in lamenting what I should have done? I can only think about what I need do next." I clutched Sebastian's arm tighter against my chest as I displaced energy beneath my feet and leapt from the top of the bridge to the rooftop of the nearest building, feeling that a joint in the brisk night air was just the thing to cool off my heated countenance.

For most of my life, I felt as how a fish must have felt that is caught in the torrent of the tides and hasn't the vaguest conception how to move against it. I was a Reaper and a Reaper was the most structured of existences. We moved where the flow of the world carried us and could not struggle against this fate, anymore than a fish can keep from being sucked down a waterfall.

But with Madam Red, I had felt for that very first time as though I had learned how to turn against the errant tide and force myself up and away from where the stream of my existence guided me. If only for a short time, I had fought that persuasive pull and gave everything I had to keep from being sucked back down. And now, having long since succumbed to the undertow once again, I felt in myself that desire to move upstream in search of better things. A fight against destiny is always difficult but you couldn't ever accuse me of floating along in life belly-up.

A change was sweeping throughout London. And we were all caught up in it. The question was; in which direction would we swim? And how willing were we to fight against that mighty current to see through our most earnest hearts desires?

I would wait for Sebastian to come to me. Beyond that, I could hardly be sure.

But I would wait.

I would wait to see my sick and foolish desires through, to perhaps the very last breath I would ever utter in this world. I would see the walls burn around me and everything I knew reduced to ashes. Only then would I understand what it means to value anything; anything at all.

We would play our final and most beautiful game. He would hunt me and I would lie in trepidation; a lonesome lamb tethered and vulnerable, awaiting his arrival. And together, we would bring terrible and gruesome meaning to this strange immortal caper.

**XxXxX**

I certainly have tarried on enough for one night and so; I bid you a fond evenings rest. We'll pick up next time, shall we? You can only imagine how my colleagues felt about my turning up with that arm! But it all stagnated into wash on that one day in which everything in my ever loud and vivacious life falls suddenly and dramatically into silence. Will and I visited a place together… do you know of what I speak? No, I suppose you wouldn't have a clue. You shall just have to reserve your thoughts until next we speak, shan't you?

Awaiting your return with fondest anticipation,

Grell Sutcliffe.

_**-**__**EC -**_

1. Yes, that was a reference to the Shinigami apple obsession from Death Note. 'Gods of death love apples!'

2. Quote from 'Red Vs. Blue'. Just couldn't help myself, sorry!

**3. Duke of Durham: First brand of machine rolled cigarettes. This company mass engineered pre-rolled cigarettes and made tobacco popular around the mid 1800's.**

**A/N: **I didn't actually mean for that to be as long as it was but oh well! Please R and R and I'll get around to posting chapter three very soon! I think I might enjoy writing Knox a little too much... he's such a funny guy! Anyway, hope you all enjoyed; catch you next time!


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